


Realignment

by Failed_to_Deanon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Humor, Not A Fix-It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, R plus L equals J, Revenge, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failed_to_Deanon/pseuds/Failed_to_Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after victory on the Trident, Robert Baratheon is still full of hatred towards Rhaegar Targaryen. With revenge on his mind he takes a different approach. That is just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime, 283 AC

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.
> 
> A/N: This is a complete AU where the Sack of King’s Landing does not happen.
> 
> A/N 2: I do not quite know how this fic came about, but, this idea behind it has been swirling around the mind for some time. Hope readers enjoy this.

Jaime Lannister does not look up from the child in his arms and tries his hardest not to even let a stray snicker escape from his lips. If he started laughing now he might not stop. His father certainly would disapprove or think he went mad. Ser Barristan Selmy, who Jaime thinks may well become the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, even when or if Ser Gerold can be found, would also.

No, it was best for him to wait and watch. That is what the rest of them: his father; Ned Stark; and, Pycelle, were doing with grim confusion and no slight amount of alarm. He’d rather not become the center of attention. This night proved to be far too strange to welcome such scrutiny.

That he was standing in the corridor in Maegor’s Holdfast where the royal apartments are was not so strange. The strange part was seeing Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon, and Elia Martell in a shadowed corner of this corridor having a discussion.

He’d been alarmed when the righteously furious Robert Baratheon slammed into this most private part of the Red Keep. In the next moment, seeing Rhaegar Targaryen’s widow standing next to him with her babe at her breast and her daughter pressed to her side, Baratheon deflated into frustrated bewilderment. The others who flooded in afterward were no different. Judging by the look on his father’s face then and Jaime, even now trying to avoid looking too much in his direction, knew the rebel lords failed to encounter a living Aerys in the Throne Room. 

If they were surprised with Princess Elia’s lack of mourning at King Aerys’ death, or his, for that matter, Jaime had been only too happy to offer up how the King had the intention of burning the city down with all of them in it. Baratheon, who’d been eyeing them with suspicion and anger winced. He, however, did not elaborate on how he shoved a cup of wildfire down the Mad King’s gullet or had killed the King’s favorite pyromancer before returning here.

At that, Baratheon laughed so loudly and for so long that Jaime thought the man went mad. The others believed it was a fitting end to the Mad King, yet, their reactions were far more suitably subdued; Ned Stark and Jon Arryn looked relieved while Ser Barristan looked pitying and oddly disappointed. His father, however, started to look speculative.

Speculation turned to annoyance when Arryn, Baratheon, Stark separated themselves to converse in low tones. Worryingly, more than once the trio of men glanced back at the widow and young children. He doubted he would be able to do anything to save any of them, if it came to that. Then again, he reasoned if any of these men were going to harm them they would have done so already. He had heard nothing which indicated their even being put under arrest. He takes no comfort in that. He knows what it is to be a hostage without chains about your wrists and to reside in a gilded cage. He knows worse.

Still, soon after, Jaime found himself with a babe in his arms while Ser Barristan scooped up Princess Rhaenys because Ned Stark came to escort Princess Elia to where Baratheon and Arryn stood, waiting. The look on Arryn’s face had been encouraging; the smile on Baratheon’s face looked hungry. Hungry for what, Jaime did not know. Her reluctance to be separated from her children to be anywhere near those men was obvious, but, she walked towards the waiting stag in measured steps. He stood there, child in his arms, watching as they spoke.

Though Jon Arryn level at least one admonition after Baratheon had gotten too brash, to Jaime it seemed a wasted effort when a few sharp words coming from Robert Baratheon were nothing when one lived with Aerys Targaryen. Though he’d rather not ruminate on what that meant for him to think that way, he could almost consider it an improvement on what he had known while living here. He would never voice that observation; he could do without looks of shock and disgust which would come his way. He kept his mouth shut and watched in the chance anyone did more than speak loudly. He came close to it when Baratheon let out howls of rage here and there, but, he did not move from his spot. 

More than once Baratheon turned towards him and Ser Barristan with narrowed eyes which softened each time. Jaime tasted fear every instance, stiffening when he realized Baratheon had been looking at the children, not at the knights holding them. Briefly Jaime wondered if he could still call the boy a ‘prince’ and the girl ‘a princess’, but, there was more important things to think about; among them the way their mother was not exempt from Baratheon’s gaze. It was unsettling, but, the man was doing nothing untoward. 

Shortly after, Jaime unconsciously straightened as she made her way back to them, seemingly not caring that the rebel lords were still whispering between themselves. By the time the woman plucked the child out of his arms and the daughter returned to her mother’s side, those men also made the short trek back and she remained mute.

His father looked even more annoyed when Arryn finally spoke, because he spoke only to her. “It is quite late, Princess, if it is no trouble, would you mind seeing to some rooms for us?” 

Pycelle, looking as disturbed as Jaime felt, twitched while his father frowned more deeply. As if that was not perplexing enough her reply nearly shook him. “No, not at all, Lord Arryn. Is there anything else? Perhaps, my lords are famished?” 

His eyes go wide. Surely, it was not the right time for her particular wit? Aerys would not have been appreciative of it, which is why he is shocked when Baratheon laughs. “Just to the rooms for now, my Princess.” 

He and Lord Arryn share an indecipherable look. “Well, there is one more thing, if you would…”

“Yes, my lord?” Jaime was certain he did not imagine the stress on the word, “Lord” though he clearly sees the way she stiffens.

If the man heard it he gave no indication, saying, “It is late tonight, however, is there anywhere a person might speak to another tomorrow?” 

After a moment, she hesitatingly replies, “I suppose, now, the King’s Solar…is available. Ser Barristan can show you, unless you would prefer elsewhere?” 

This time it was Ser Barristan who nearly stumbled while standing still. The others, aside from Baratheon, did not fare much better. Baratheon simply smirks. “More than suitable.” 

Jaime almost jerks forward when the man steps closer to her and goes to pat Princess Rhaenys on her tiny shoulder and runs a finger down the cheek of the sleeping infant. Gentle as the actions turned out to be Jaime feels a chill go up his spine watching Princess Elia’s lips tighten and her shoulders square. “When you’ve seen about the rooms for us, get those children to bed and yourself to yours. It is quite late.” 

What was this macabre game of civility? Was this overture supposed to be kindness?

“I would like to keep my children with me.” He blinked at that. It’s quite brave, he supposes, given the circumstances, and the way Baratheon was acting, it was not so surprising of a request, if one was in any position to make any. 

Barristan looks towards him, “Jaime, you would accompany them.” 

Arryn cuts in, “I would have some of mine escort you both.” Arryn gestures to two seasoned warriors who nod. Jaime does not understand how Barristan can stand there and give encouraging looks, but, he does not want to question too much tonight.

She looks equally nonplussed, but, does not argue and Jaime understands the impulse all too well; this was just a different jailer. 

“We will speak in the morning, Princess.” 

Not knowing what to say or do Jaime remains mute in the face Baratheon’s gruff yet oddly conciliatory words. Bile rises in his throat as she whispers her thanks and turns to leave. One glance at his father’s face ensures he’d rather follow her than stay behind to “talk”.

He continues to say nothing while he watches her do as “requested” and instructs some of the ladies she finds to see to rooms for those men who have taken over her home. Jaime can still find no appropriate response to any of this when she also ensures the ladies know to guide the newly arrived lords to those rooms she instructed them to see to. 

When they are alone, save for the sleeping children he finally asks, “You are not worried?” 

She frowns. “I am. Very much.” He bites back a response about how with the way she ignored the Arryn guards following her and went about her business she certainly did not seem to be.

When she offers nothing more he asks, “What did you and they speak about?” 

He refrains from commenting on the few aborted attempts when she tried to speak. When she does finally have the words she speaks with a frown on her face and a sigh in her voice. “The King’s death shook them. They were not expecting that, but, they seemed relieved.” _He was quite sure._

She laughs. The sound has a hysterical edge to it. “I cannot blame them.”

He lets that go unremarked upon, as well. “What is to happen now? They must have said something.”

Her expression cracks as she looks down at her sleeping children. “I suppose Lord Baratheon, Lord Arryn, and Lord Stark have their plans for what happens next. I doubt they would trust me even when they seem to want to reassure that my children and I would be safe.” Despite the scene earlier she does not trust them. 

He wants to ask more, but, thinking better of it, he leaves the room, not bothering with some platitude about trying to get some rest. He doubts she will get any. Wondering how and why his father and a Kingsguard like Barristan the Bold came to have joined the rebels, he knows he will not get any either. Besides, it is not as though he trusts the Arryn men standing at attention a few feet across from him. 

When nothing untoward occurs between them, figuring he’d know something one of them even asks, “What happens next?”

He was the one frowning now. “I do not know.”

He still did not know the next morning when Ned Stark set out for somewhere no one would tell him about while Baratheon makes himself at home in King’s Landing.

* * *

It had been a long while before Ned Stark returned; from Dorne of all places. With him, he brought news of a dead sister and his newly born bastard, and, more importantly, three living, formerly missing, Kingsguard. Soon after Ned Stark, along with those of his men who accompanied him in trying to find his sister, went to break the Siege of Storm’s and to treat with Baratheon’s former enemies. 

Despite the hasty exodus of stone-faced Northmen from King’s Landing, he was more disturbed by ‘his brothers’ unwillingness to say more than they had been doing their duty. And yet, even when Ser Barristan had been named Lord Commander, they said they would serve. Strongly suspecting Prince Rhaegar’s wife and children still living in King’s Landing on Baratheon’s and Arryn’s sufferance had much to do with it, he believed them. He still wondered when there was much to be unsure of. Baratheon was bold and brash. Given their role in keeping his betrothed hidden away who knew what Baratheon, as angry as he was after learning of her death, would do to his ‘brothers’? 

He learned exactly what when he had been summoned to the Throne Room. He had not been the only one. “Princess Elia”, Jaime thinks. How funny was it that she was a hostage and the form of address was still the same? Arryn and Baratheon said more than once the Princess Dowager was equally a Princess of Dorne, but, it was odd.

She was allowed, one could say almost expected, to act as mistress of the Keep, despite being guarded at all times by men loyal to the former rebels. It might have shocked his ‘brothers’ more though he wondered what this particular summons was about. 

Whether today was intended as some sort of twisted jape or a matter of having an audience, Jaime did not know, but, he could not believe the gall of Baratheon to ask her what he should do with these returned knights. This was hardly the first time the man asked questions of her, but, Jaime was just as shaken as the three other Kingsguard were. Grimly, he suspects that to be the purpose. 

She swallowed. “What help can I be when these decisions are not for me to make?” 

Minimize oneself and keep a polite tone to avoid making trouble. Sometimes, it worked for Aerys; here, Baratheon simply smirks. “Oblige me, my Princess. I desire to have your thoughts on the subject. Why should I not kill them or send them to the Wall? What good were they as Kingsguard? They were not anywhere near guarding the last one.” He flinches and his throat constricts while he tries not to look his ‘brothers’ in the eye. He killed the old king and here he was. These were far better men and they looked as though they were preparing to be punished.

“The Kingsguard serve for life and they have broken no vows to warrant either fate.” 

A mocking smile, “Is that all?”

“They offered fealty. It would be the height of wastefulness to disregard it when Ser Barristan was given the same choice.” The new Lord Commander flinched though neither Baratheon nor Princess Elia was looking at anyone else but each other. 

Baratheon walks towards her, looking almost amused. Jaime thinks it is good she does not take a step back though she clasps her hands together in front of her, weak barrier as it was. His voice, holding no shortage of dismissiveness, grows unnecessarily loud in the silent hall. “You know there is a difference. Ser Barristan nearly gave his life after fighting valiantly. You would trust these men who are only here now. Do you not wish to know why they remained gone or why they were hiding in your homeland while others, such as your uncle, were fighting and dying?” Jaime winced. He also saw the three men bristle. Baratheon, though, took no small amount of glee in that and in seeing her flash of anger before she smoothened it out. 

Seconds ticked away before she gave her soft-voiced reply. “Kingsguard are warriors, true, yet, that is not their chief purpose. Where they were there was no king. In the absence of the king, if their prince ordered them any act, for good or ill, they would obey as is their duty. A man would be fortunate to be shown half of that loyalty. There is a king here in need of Kingsguard. That is all I need to know.” 

Baratheon jauntily nods and turns to the knights and promptly accepts their service before waving her away. Jaime can see the three newly reinstated Kingsguard wish to look anywhere save at Baratheon, yet, seeing how Princess Elia acknowledges neither them nor the Baratheon guardsmen who move to follow her out of the hall, he knows there can be no succor for them there, either.

* * *

It was soon after that when Jaime found himself standing before the Great Sept of Baelor with what seemed to be half the population of King’s Landing. None of them know the favor he did them and they would never know. 

Even as a king, Aerys proved more trouble than he had been worth. Though Jaime was hardly the first to think that, it was past the time to move on from the dead. That was why they were all here now.

Years ago he would not have imagined the sight before him. He knew his father had not imagined this spectacle either. Though his father accepted the position of Master of Laws, after Robert Baratheon announced to all and sundry of his plans for marriage and those plans had decidedly not involved Cersei, thank the gods, his father did not have much to say.

Instead, Jaime watches as Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm’s End, the Regent of the infant King Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his Name, placed a black velvet, stag embossed, Baratheon one across the shoulders of Princess Elia Martell of Sunspear.

That Baratheon chose not to take the crown was surprising, but, given the circumstances, understandable. This, however...She had not been present when Baratheon made the announcement to the Small Council, he had been. While his father’s face had been impassive, Pycelle’s face was anything but when Baratheon replied to the Grand Maester's questions regarding the fitness of the Dornish widow as Baratheon's future wife. _“What does it matter if she gives me an heir or not? Lyanna was the one I wanted a life and children with and she would be here with me if that damned Targaryen hadn’t stolen her. I need a reason to keep the children and wife close. This is as good a means as any.”_

The sheer impudence of those words, however, was surpassed by those shared between Baratheon and Arryn later. _“Lannister is not the only man we have to please or hold at bay. So his girl is beautiful. What does it matter? She isn’t Lyanna! You keep telling me Lannister is a smart man. If he wanted more from us than a seat on the council he should have been smarter and slithered out of under Casterly Rock before I crushed Rhaegar bloody Targaryen’s chest in. If Lannister wants a Baratheon husband for his daughter, he can still have one. Pycelle is so damned fond of squawking about the Martell woman’s barrenness. He can start squawking to Lannister about Stannis being my heir, then.”_

Now, during the exchange of vows, as if on cue, some fool behind him whispers, “Was it not kind of Lord Baratheon to do right by Prince Rhaegar’s family?”

Jaime almost laughed. _Right_ had nothing with it. One could swallow Arryn’s claims of backing Aerys’ grandson as king was a matter of reconciliation between warring factions and not holding innocents responsible. Jaime knew better than to think the same of Baratheon. Aerys took far too many liberties and so had his son. King Aegon would be taught by “better” men. It was a matter of care at the beginning and Baratheon seemed only too happy to oblige, even if it meant he took no crown for himself. 

During the feast Jaime watched as the groom drank and made jokes while the bride spent much of the speaking to her brothers and the eldest of her newest good-brothers. Lord Stannis, even on the day of his brother’s wedding, seemed positively dour. Sourly, he thinks this one isn’t worthy of Cersei, but, his father saw the opportunity and took it. The youngest brother, Renly, he thinks, is about Tyrion’s age. The boy kept sneaking pudding to Princess Rhaenys intermittently, with Baratheon laughing while Princess Elia looked on indulgently. The bride smiled at the groom as well, but, Jaime knew the smiles she gave Baratheon were very similar to those she used to give Prince Rhaegar when they were in front of witnesses in the days after Harrenhal and when he returned to take command of his father’s forces. They were the same ones she gave to King Aerys when he required her presence. If Baratheon knew how little warmth her smiles contained he gave no indication, but, he smiled too.

No one openly questioned the lack of her brothers’ displeasure at this wedding, but, then, it was no secret how displeased Dorne had been with her last husband. He supposed they figured the match was well worth making if it meant their Princess’ still living son was still a king, even if in name only and the boy had been put to bed before the feast. 

If one did not know any better, one could say Baratheon had been courting Princess Elia since the man learned of his betrothed’s death. Jaime did know better, not that it mattered when the bride walked into the Great Sept on her own and her voice had held no hesitation when she said the vows making her Lord Baratheon’s wife and he put the cloak on her back.

Though there was no bedding ceremony and Lord Commander Selmy would be given the ‘honor’ of guarding their door that night, Jaime knew the marriage would be consummated.

Still, the next morning he had been rather relieved Barristan had no reports of anything untoward occurring.

* * *

The first time after the wedding he goes to the nursery his lips twitch though there was little humor in the circumstance. Princess Elia, now he supposed, also Lady Baratheon, wearing jewelry once belonging to Cassana Estermont, was seated in a chair with her son in her lap while Baratheon, who sat across from her, laughed along with whatever his new ‘daughter’ was telling him. 

Had these two been anyone else, Jaime would have thought the scene in front of him to be rather sweet, but, he knows politics when he sees it and he had seen enough of their ‘courtship’ to know better. 

In the next council meeting Princess Elia was seated next to her new husband. She was there at his invitation and with her hand in his, no less. She did not speak much, but, she spoke at his urging and he seemed perfectly content in leaving much of the actual governing to Arryn. Jaime supposed it was just as well Aegon would grow to be king if the Regent had little interest in ruling. 

Not for the first time Jaime thought it could be worse. He lived through worse.

* * *

Gerold, Arthur, and Oswell call Baratheon ‘thief’ and ‘usurper’ in secret, but, Baratheon took no crown, though he took something just as valuable. Many others compare him to the founder of his house, Orys; only they say he is better. Jaime frequently hears talk of how lovely a family Baratheon, the Princess, and the children make when they are seen together.

For his part, when he sees Baratheon playing at family with the remnants of Prince Rhaegar’s he wants to do nothing but laugh. When he is alone he does. Only, he knows if there is anyone else laughing more than him it is Baratheon himself.


	2. Arthur, 287 AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads, kudos, comments, and bookmarks.

When a laughing Robert Baratheon spills out from behind Princess Elia’s door Arthur’s expression hardens. Baratheon gives him a smile that is more of a smirk. Arthur would like nothing better than to drive Dawn through Baratheon, but, his hand stays where it is. It always does. The glee Baratheon takes in knowing why is as potent as it was the first day of his return to King’s Landing.

Just as quickly, Baratheon rights himself and turns back to look inside the room he vacated. Now with a soft look on his face he walks back through the door, leaving it half open behind him. What now, Arthur wonders.

He learns what when the other man sits down next to Princess Elia was seated with a soft, “M’dear.” 

Princess Elia’s lips curl into a smile when Baratheon kisses her hand. These few years, he has seen plenty of tender moments between them; far too many. He grieves seeing it. He also grieves how the number of men who share his sentiments continues to shrink.

Even now, he curses that night in the middle of the Red Mountains. 

_Ser Gerold spoke first. “We do not believe the word of traitors.”_

_Eddard Stark countered, “You would not risk treason for wrongs done to your family and to keep yourself alive? No matter. Little changes King Aerys is dead and there is a new king with three of the Kingsguard missing.”_

_“Why you made your choice is no business of ours and ours none of yours.”_

_“That child is my business.”_

_“The child is under our protection.”_

_Stark’s face twists in grief and anger. “Protection? My father, brother, and now my sister. Dead. Clearly your protection is lacking, Ser Arthur.”_

_At that he raises Dawn. Everyone’s swords join his in the air._

_Oswell sneers, “You expect us to trust you with a child of our prince?”_

_Once more, Stark pleads, “The child is my blood. You heard my sister’s dying wish. He should be with me. I will keep him safe. I swear it. It is safer for him with me than this tower or King’s Landing will ever be.”_

_“Trust you? A man whose friend killed his father? What do you take us for? We are not men who run from duty.”_

_For one so young the scowl on Ethan Glover’s face is fierce. “What duty is this of yours, you who hid while other men died fighting? Even your king is dead too!”_

_“You dare!”_

_William Dustin breaks his silence. “You belong in King’s Landing. Quickly now, before someone less amiable to this farce comes. Leave this hovel and its history to the silence it deserves. That is the only honorable choice.”_

_Oswell spit out, “We would never call Baratheon our king.”_

_“Consider yourselves fortunate you do not have to.”_

Would that he chosen differently then. He knew returning to King’s Landing would be difficult, but, the day he knelt though it was for Aegon he did…There had not been a choice, not truly; and now Rhaegar’s wife is on Baratheon’s arm while his children call him, ‘Father’. 

“I thought you were leaving.” She had always been ‘dutiful’. To see it directed towards this man...

Baratheon’s laugh grates almost as much as the not-quite muted warmth in her tone. 

“I was. The council can wait for a few moments. I would rather be here than at one of those boring things.” 

“That is not an appropriate sentiment for a Regent to have." A well-worn argument, however, Arthur nearly retches hearing it again.

Baratheon snorts again. “They are.” 

Prince Rhaegar was never this petulant, but, Baratheon would never be Prince Rhaegar. Still, she grins. “Even so.” 

Baratheon presses a hand to Princess Elia’s neck and kisses her. 

He looks away. Baratheon does this deliberately; daring him. He wants to shout or pull them apart, but, he does not. That should be Prince Rhaegar there; though his prince had never been so demonstrative with the princess, even in her own rooms. Only, Prince Rhaegar is not here and Baratheon was. The part which burns even more is Rhaegar’s wife, and to him Princess Elia is still that, seems content. 

_“He killed Rhaegar and you wish to marry him.”_

_How could she be shocked he would question this? “I do nothing because I wish it.”_

_“Then, how is it that you would do this? You let him do as he likes. Even with Rhaegar’s children and you…”_

_Her face twists and she glares at him. “I what, Arthur? You are so eager to take offence. Please, tell me why!”_

_“You would marry him. And I have to stand by and watch. Why?”_

_“Is your objection that you have to stand by and watch while I let Robert Baratheon take his husband’s rights with me? Did you ever object when Aerys took his with Rhaella? Did you argue with Rhaegar when he took rights not his with someone he had no business bedding?”_

_Elia Martell is gentle and kind. More often than not she was, so much so that he’d forgotten she was a daughter of Dorne. For it, she punishes him now._

_Seeing him flinch, she laughs. “Why do you object to this, then? Has he been cruel to me or my children?”_

_“How can you marry him when he is the reason you have no husband?”_

_Arms crosses, chin raised, she replies, “I cannot afford to think of Rhaegar. I have my children to think of.” This is sister of the Red Viper though this pragmatism mirrors Prince Doran’s. He does not know which is worse._

_He moved to step closer. “How can you be so callous?”_

_She holds up a hand, ensuring distance between them. “I never asked much from him. Perhaps it was my own failing, but, why should I concern myself with what he would have wanted when he cared not for me when he was alive?”_

_Not much shocks him, but, the acrimony in her voice…“How could you say this?”_

_He frown recognizing what the look she gives him means. “Is that what this was about? You do this because of anger or jealousy? Listen then, he had no plans to put you aside to marry the Stark girl.”_

_She turns from him to look out a window. He does not go after her. He was close enough to see her shaking. “How comforting! Was he going to apologize for this foolishness? Had the girl lived was my husband going to keep her here or attempt reconciliation with the Starks by providing a handsome dowry and help with tucking her in some corner like Kings do with ‘mistresses’? Was he going to answer my daughter’s questions about where he had been? Was he so great a man he could erase the memories of his father telling me that I been less than worthless he would not have taken the girl or that I was only alive because he needed my brother’s spears? He thought it perfectly acceptable to keep another man’s woman where my family governs and to leave my children and me to the mercy of his mad father. You expect me to pity him now when it will do him no good?”_

_How long she had been storing this bitterness? Harrenhall. Or rather, it compounded since then. Now she would be wife to a man who would encourage her not keeping silent of her previous husband’s supposed failings._

_Still, he has to try to fix what he could. He cannot allow her hurt to fester when Baratheon’s presence will taint the memory of Rhaegar for his children by her. He owes his prince and friend that, at least. He failed him enough. “He never meant to hurt you. He never thought there would be danger. You were protected here!”_

_She turns back to look at him, fury and accusation in her gaze. “Ser Jaime, the only other Kingsguard in the city left, would do whatever Aerys wished. Am I to trust the household servants? The Goldcloaks? They could be bought. Between my husband and his father what currency did I have? Of course, his father was planning to burn the city down with us in it. What sort of protection are you talking about, Arthur?”_

_“He did not anticipate-”_

_“He used to put more thought towards beggars in Flea Bottom than he had for my children and me. Had he lived perhaps I would have tried come to terms with it, but, he did not. I do not have the luxury of thinking of what he would want or what suits your sensibilities. Be angry with me all you wish, but, I am willing to pay any price to keep my children safe and with me.”_

At first, he wanted to believe she said that to rouse his anger enough to leave her to her fate. Now, he knows she meant those words. She rarely speaks of Rhaegar and as far as he can tell has not insulted him to the children, but, she has not forgiven neither her husband nor him. He regrets it came to this, but, he tries to understand it. Others he loves are no different. What he cannot understand is how she would be so hurt by them and continue to accept Baratheon’s less than gallant behavior which started not so long after they married.

_“A brothel, Robert? What would your wife think?”_

_He hears a laugh. “Jon, you think she wants to share my bed every night?”_

_“What? She knows about this?”_

_“She pleases me, yet, she knows it was not her I wanted to marry.” Baratheon ends; bitter. Gods, Baratheon thinks of a woman who gave him so little thought when she had been alive. Then, he hears Baratheon’s laughter again. “I never did tell you, did I?”_

_“Tell me, what?” Even if Arryn made no further inquiry, Arthur had to know._

_“‘I will not fight you if you are going to bed other women. However, I would prefer it if you were discreet and discriminating in your choices as to who you bed. Scandal is inescapable here, but, I tire of it and I do not wish to see my children further disturbed.’ Those are her words.”_

_Arthur hears the humor in the man’s voice. “Having to go out to a brothel isn’t much of a hardship if it keeps a good woman sweet.”_

Now, the look on Baratheon’s face is as close to sincere Arthur has ever seen from the man. “I should go. After, I want to give Rhaenys and Mya the gifts I had made.”

It had been shocking when Baratheon’s bastard girl was installed in the household. Even more shocking was how the Princess smiled at Baratheon then. _“Is your Mya not of age with my Rhaenys? It is good of you, my lord, to think of your daughter.”_

Ashara, when she deigned to write, told him she truly hadn’t minded. After all, what was a baseborn girl birthed before marriage? Arthur nearly lets out a sigh thinking of the bastard boy in the north Stark claimed as his own. Thankfully, despite their going to Winterfell some moons ago the pair remains ignorant of the boy’s identity. Rhaegar made him promise to keep the Stark girl safe, but, he cannot protect anyone from death. Keeping the child safe means he has to keep a lie. Elia Martell does not mind Baratheon’s girl, but, she would mind the existence of the boy as much as Baratheon would. They are not the only ones and so he keeps silent. 

“You’ll spoil them.” 

Would that Arthur never hears the softness in Princess Elia’s voice directed to Baratheon again. 

“I like to spoil my girls, all of them.” Something bitter settles in Arthur’s stomach at how she allows that man to press closer and kiss her again.

He tries to ignore the scene in front of him, but, her voice cuts through the air. “And for my son?” 

Baratheon smirks again. Gods, he was always smirking. “Must you be so demanding, woman?” 

“It is a question, not a demand, husband.” There was no fear in her voice when she speaks to Baratheon. Once Arthur might have been grateful.

Baratheon looks at her fondly. He would rather Baratheon not look at her at all. “Isn’t it enough I go to those endless meetings for our son?” 

Arthur feels both of his hands clench into fists. This murderer dares call Rhaegar’s son his own? 

But, even as he feels himself lurch forward he stops when she speaks softly. “Absolutely not.”

Baratheon admits, “I have something for him, too.” Of course. Generous. How many times has he heard it said about Baratheon? However, Arthur knows there is no true generosity in the man.

“Not a horse, I hope.”

Baratheon groans good-naturedly and Arthur’s sword arm twitches. “It was one docile, little pony and I only let the girls ride her once. You saw how happy they were, but, no.” 

She huffs out a sigh, “Oh, very well.” She gives him a look. “It isn’t a weapon is it?”

Baratheon laughs riotously. “I will leave that to your brother for now.” Oberyn Martell came to King’s Landing a fortnight ago. To his frustration, this Prince of Dorne got on well with this husband of his sister’s; far better than he ever had with Prince Rhaegar. 

“You are too kind.” 

“Kindness has nothing to do with it, wife.” Arthur has to close his eyes after she lets Baratheon brush an errant hair out of her face.

“What does it have to do with, then?”

“Not the best timing, but, I wanted to take your brother on a hunt and there is an audience. Jon will be there in my stead, and yet…”

Arthur sees one of Baratheon’s hands encircle one of her smaller ones. The other drapes across her shoulder. The man is the very picture of solicitousness and no matter how many times Arthur thinks it, he hates the man even more. He hates how she looks pleased at this behavior of Baratheon’s.

“Oberyn has been bored. Likely you as well. I suppose both already agreed?” Baratheon nods, looking stupidly hopeful.

“When?”

“Two days. You needn’t stay for very long. I would not want to you to.”

Arthur sees a knowing look on her face. “The day the contingent from the Reach is set to leave?”

“Yes.”

It is a fool’s hope to think she would refuse when she rarely refuses Baratheon much of anything and he is proven correct. “I will say your farewells for you.”

“Thank you, wife. I suppose I have to go now.” The reluctance is real, yet, Arthur wants to believe it is only because the man detests meetings. 

She nods. “You should not keep the council waiting.”

“Do you think I could take the boy along?” The Seven take the man and his shows of affection.

“I see no harm in it, yet, he is so young, and he will find it dull.” Must she be so agreeable?

“I find it dull.”

They share a laugh. She says, “Get going.”

“Be careful while I am gone.” One final kiss between them and with a hand brushed over Princess Elia’s swollen belly Baratheon gets up, at last.

When he reaches the door again whatever gentleness Baratheon showed mere moments ago disappeared. When Baratheon sees he does not follow, he barks, “Come, Kingsguard. My wife is perfectly safe. I have that meeting attend.”

With that, Baratheon saunters down the hall. Though Arthur does not see it, he knows Baratheon is smirking.

* * *

When he was finally free of the oaf, and the silver haired boy who all but clung to him, he goes to Prince Oberyn. 

“My Prince, I hear you are going on a hunt.” He tries keeping the accusation out of his voice, but, suspects it is a near thing.

Prince Oberyn looks up lazily and smiles. “Good, he finally got around to telling her. He was sure she’d argue against it.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “It is true, then?”

Prince Oberyn snorts, “It would be a stupid thing to lie about.” He rolls his eyes, “Did you wish to join us?” 

Arthur wishes he could understand this madness which affects the Martells when it comes to Baratheon, but, knows any explanation will be unsatisfying; as they have always been. “No, my Prince. What I wish is to know is why are you going?” 

“My sister is in no condition to go and my niece and nephew are too young for that. It is rare I am here, let alone free to hunt with Robert. Besides, I can’t blame him for not wanting to see the Reachlords off.” He ends with a laugh. 

Years ago, perhaps he would have understood gratitude, but, this…

“Have you seen him at all today? Playing at such saccharine attentiveness with the Princess.”

He gets another laugh. “What of it? Gods, and to think Lannister looked half as dismayed when he learned my sister was with child as you look now, Arthur.”

He barely manages to stifle his irritation. Even if Princess Elia gives Baratheon a child, with his dwarf son now shuffled off to Oldtown, Lannister still has an heir in Cersei Lannister’s son, Steffon, by her Baratheon husband. He also heard the lady was with child once more. However, he does not care to discuss Tywin Lannister’s legacy.

“Does his behavior not concern you?”

“He is her husband. I would be disappointed if he acts otherwise.” Then Prince Oberyn looks at him and sighs. “What has he said or done now?”

Incredible! “What has he-He is a killer!”

“I hope so. It would be a boring hunt if neither of us get any game.”

At that he clenches his jaw and just as quickly the Prince’s ardor rises. “I beg of you, if it is about Rhaegar Targaryen, stop now. We are not having the argument again; if not for our sakes or my sister’s, then yours.”

“I would rather, my Prince, Ashara was not brought into this!”

Through gritted teeth Oberyn hisses, “Ashara is my wife and this insistence of yours to dredge up matters best alone upsets her. It also upsets my sister and it disturbs the children. Arthur, by the gods, it’s been years. Let the damned matter rest!”

He growls out, “‘Let the matter rest?’ How could you expect this of me? It is bad enough you expect me to kowtow to Robert Baratheon!”

Oberyn’s face darkened. He ground out, “This has nothing to do with how beastly Robert Baratheon could be and you know it.” The laughter he hears now is cruel. “But, what else can I expect from you? After all, you helped Rhaegar Targaryen make a joke of my sister and our people for all the seven kingdoms to laugh at.”

He hears a rushing in his ears. Not even Princess Elia dares… “You know that was not intend-”

“You told me he insisted you stayed behind on his order and it was your duty to obey him. I accepted that, we all did. How is it, then, you forget once they married, my sister cannot disregard her duty to Baratheon? At any rate, think of how she is with child at her age. This is to be her third. You know what the Maester said the last time. I would have my sister at peace however she finds it.”

Near the day of that damned wedding Prince Doran espoused views similar to his younger brother does now. _“Rhaegar Targaryen used my sister for children and later shamed them all and himself by his behavior. Aerys used them to force my hand in the war he and his son started. I mean to ensure the damage done to our house and our people in these previous years does not escalate. So long as he does right by my sister and her children, whatever minor failings Robert Baratheon may have will be tolerated.”_

They can couch it all they want in fraternal concern, but, he knows their objections to his doing anything comes from the Martell brothers’ inability to forgive Prince Rhaegar, or him by extension. His own family is no different. His brother has not stepped out of Dorne in years and rarely writes to him. One sister shares many of her husband’s opinions. His youngest sister had been a baby the last he saw her. He can appreciate their sentiments, but, to allow Baratheon so much?

“I understand the Princess’ position. I truly do, but, this is about Baratheon and how he takes liberties he has no right to and how she allows it.”

Prince Oberyn opened his mouth to rebuke, but, sighs again. “My sister and her children live on Baratheon’s sufferance. We both know this. The entire realm knows this. If Baratheon is cruel like Aerys was or as dishonorable as Rhaegar was, do your worst, I will be the first to help you. Until such a moment occurs I advise you to do nothing, as you have been.”

Before he can argue, the other man gives him a look, “Arthur, know that I appreciate your concerns. Therefore, I say it would be best if you accept things as they have stood for years. Robert Baratheon was acknowledged Regent to my nephew before you made it back to King’s Landing. If it pleases my sister to keep him sweet even now, you will let her, no matter how she chooses to go about doing it.”

“Except she is not only doing that.” With her children, she built a life with Robert Baratheon. 

Now, bridled temper seeps into the Prince’s clipped tone. “You wanted to be Kingsguard, Arthur, so be Kingsguard. What goes on between a wife and husband should be no concern of yours. Your only duty should be to ensure my sister and her children are safe from bodily harm and Aegon grows to become king in more than name. That is the only thing expected of you.”

He closed his eyes. _All they expect._ No, it is all they want from him because he lost their trust long ago.

He leaves the room without another word, knowing they will have this argument again. He has to continue it. He cannot bear the thought of allowing Rhaegar’s children to grow to think of their true father as a raper and who abandoned them to the mercies of their mad Grandsire. But, the task proves difficult when no one will hear different.

Tiredly, he leans on the closed door behind him, uncaring if anyone saw him. He has nowhere to be and nowhere to go. When he is not on duty he avoids Baratheon and has no desire to see Baratheon sitting in what used to be King Aerys Solar with Prince Rhaegar’s son, helping the boy with his letters. Rhaegar’s daughter, Arthur knows, is sitting with her needlework in the Princess Elia’s room with her mother and Baratheon’s girl. He has no reason to venture there again when Jaime is at his post.

It is days like this when Arthur looks upon the vows he swore with bitterness. He used to be a proper knight once. Now, his thoughts are of no consequence to those who once valued his input. He has not felt like the Sword of the Morning for years. 

He can do nothing to change it. He cannot leave because he would be leaving two of his Prince’s children to the mercy of that man who would revel in his “dereliction of duty”. Not even his kinsmen would forgive that. He cannot go North to the other child who does not know him because it would mean danger for the child. He cannot go back to Dorne without a reason and there will not be any when Baratheon will not send him.

Even being alone in his sleeping cell will be no comfort. He loved being Kingsguard once, but, now Baratheon rules while Rhaegar’s son is too young to do it himself. There is nothing he can do about it without looking like the villain some see him as.

He thinks of his Prince often, but, even those thoughts are tainted because Baratheon is here where Prince Rhaegar cannot be and no one else seems to be bothered by it.


	3. Ned, 298 AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads, kudos, comments, and bookmarks.

King’s Landing. 

Ned would have never returned had Robert not insisted he be here for the coronation. Even worse, Robert summoned him to the Throne Room.

The Targaryen banners still hang. The dragon skulls are gone, at least. The last time, at the base of the steps leading up the Iron Throne, there had been a dead king. This time there was Robert.

Robert is as big a man as he remembers. Now, there was gray at the temples of Robert’s hair. Years ago, when his friend visited Winterfell, there had not been that neatly trimmed beard.

“How long have standing there?” He refrains from asking, ‘Why here of all places?’ 

“It seems like years, Eddard Stark.”

It is strange to hear his true name come out of Robert’s mouth, but, it has been many a year.

He gestures to the Iron Throne. “You could have sat down.”

A strange look passes across Robert’s face. “The ugly thing is uncomfortable.”

A smile tugs at his lips. Jon used to write about Robert’s complaints. Looking at it, his smile dies. He agrees. The blood spilt because of men who sat on it makes the chair ugly. “You have sat in it many years.”

Robert spoke, “We decided a long time ago the boy should have it. He sits in it more than me.” Of course, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His name. 

Then, he had not cared who sat on the throne; all he wanted was to find Lyanna. He found her. He also watched her die. Now he almost looked around for the young king, but, Robert had been alone, likely the reason he chose this place. The Red Keep was filled until bursting for the Coronation. “Where is His Grace?”

“Rhaenys arrived with that Tyrell husband of hers. He went to greet her.”

“Sansa is here?” Sansa came south to live in Highgarden as one of Princess Rhaenys’ ladies and visited the capitol enough. At least, he would be able to see his daughter. One good thing to come from this.

“You will see her soon. Aegon, too.” 

He nodded. “Is he going to be a good king?” He had been a babe in his mother’s arms the last Ned saw him. Jon seemed to think the young king was a good man, but, most he knows about the boy is what Sansa writes about her betrothed. 

The way Robert looks thoughtful begins to fill him with unease. Eventually, Robert replies, “He will do well. Besides, he will have Jon to guide him.”

Confused, he looks at Robert sharply. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Dorne and, then, Storm’s End before I return, if I do.”

Robert had not written in years. In truth, he did not expect his friend to, but, Jon should have. “Does Stannis know?” That is not the question he wants to ask. It was one he could.

Robert laughs. “Storm’s End was more Stannis’ place than mine, but, it is going to be Elbert’s seat one day, he Elia and keep telling me.” Robert adds belatedly, “Stannis is here. You can see him later.”

He says perhaps, but, he was distracted. This sounds so unlike Robert. Then, there was ‘Elbert’. Robert named his son for Jon’s nephew and their friend. He does not want to think of it now, but, he wonders if Robert imagines Elbert and Brandon’s deaths when in this room. “You want to go.”

“Elia insists Elbert visit Sunspear too. Then, we will be in Storm’s End for a while. Stannis agrees with her. Not even the Warrior would confront them when they are of the same mind.” He sounds so humored by that.

“What do you mean?”

Robert snorted; the sound, fond. “Elia would have my hide, and gods know her brothers and mine would try and drag me back if I tried to leave Elbert and her in Storm’s End to go to Essos and become a sellsword.”

In their youth Robert made such jokes many times. Ned hears no wistfulness in him now. 

From behind him he the door creaks and a voice pipes up, “Father, is Egg still with Rhae?”

Robert laughed aloud. “Speak and he appears.” The mop of hair on the boy is just like Robert’s while his eyes are dark Martell ones. Robert places his hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Elbert, you can’t call them that anymore.” 

Robert would have never said something like this. How much has Robert changed?

“Why not? I always call them that.”

Robert smiles, indulgent. “Rhaenys is long wed and no one is going to respect a King called ‘Egg’.”

“They are my brother and sister.” Despite himself, Ned smiles at the petulance of youth. 

A different voice cuts through the hall. “I think it will be alright if it is just us, Father.”

He turns to see a silver haired man walking in their direction, his purple eyes dancing with amusement. Rhaegar Targaryen’s son calls Robert, ‘Father’. From behind the youth, Ser Oswell grimaces slightly. No one else seems to notice or seem to care; not with the way Elbert grins at his half-brother. The young lady on Aegon Targaryen’s arm lets out a giggle of her own.

“Father, you came.” Sansa curtsied to him while her betrothed nods at him with a polite “Lord Stark.” For a moment he forgets everything else and looks at the girl; no, not woman. A fleeting thought of how just like her mother Sansa looks, dressed in that Southron finery, passes through him. 

Eventually, he comes to himself. “Your Grace, Sansa.” He gets a smile from her and a nod from him.

The youngest among looks at his half-brother. “Can I still call you Egg?”

Rhaegar’s son turns to Elbert and reassures, “In private it should not be a problem”. 

“Can I use your Warhammer to practice today?” 

Ned’s eyes widen. Surely, Robert did not teach Prince Rhaegar’s son to use _that_ weapon?

As if it was nothing, Aegon replies, “Perhaps, unless Father objects?”

Robert snorts, “Your mother might.” Once again Ser Oswell stiffens, whether it was because the weapon or because Princess Elia, Ned does not know. He will not ask.

Aegon shrugs, “Mother is having tea with Aunt Cersei and Aunt Ashara. I think a few other ladies. I will tell her before I take him.”

Robert nods agreeably. “Where is your sister?”

Elbert starts, “Rhae-” 

The boy pauses, looks at his father, and amends, “Rhaenys took Lord Willas, Lord Edmure, and Cousin Daenerys to the gardens to join Cousin Arianne and Cousin Viserys in a picnic.” 

The boy rolls his eyes, telling them all spending time with couples is not his primary interest. That’s not his either. He knew Prince Viserys was warded with Stannis and Princess Daenerys remained on Dragonstone until she married, but, that Robert did not even blink at the mention of Aerys’ children surprises him. 

Not knowing his thoughts, Robert directs his next inquiry to Aegon and Sansa. “I thought you both would be with them.” The pair share a laugh. Seeing this, Ned is only slightly more at ease.

“We heard Lord Stark arrived. I hoped to invite him to dine with us sometime this week.” Robert was looking at him excitedly while the young king smiles at him pleasantly. Sansa’s face is full of hope. Much like the betrothal Robert had arranged, he cannot find a reason to refuse without inviting unpleasant possibilities. He nods swiftly.

Seeing this Robert remarks, “Go on, then.” To Aegon, he says, “Would you take Elbert to Stannis’ chambers while Lord Stark and I speak? Steffon and Joanna are waiting for him.” 

To his surprised pleasure, Sansa breaks from propriety for a moment to embrace him. Ned had almost become at ease watching Sansa take her betrothed’s hand as the trio make their way out of the Throne Room. 

Or at least, he had been until Robert called out, “Aegon, make sure is he keeps his fingers.” 

He startles, though not at the boy’s whoop of joy. Aegon smiles again and with a strange glint in his eyes says, “Of course, Father. Mother would be most displeased at the both of us otherwise”.

Robert smirks. “I hate to disappoint her.” Once again Ser Oswell’s face hardens as Aegon’s laughter follows them out of the hall. 

When alone, Ned rounds on his friend. “He knows to use the Warhammer.”

“He can also wield a sword, a bow, a lance, and a spear. A proper king knows all weapons even if he does not use them.” What were these words coming from Robert?

“That weapon?”

At his disgust Robert looks amused. “You mean, ‘the weapon I defeated my enemy with’? He does. Elia and I did not raise him to be an ignorant man or a king.”

“How...” He cannot even finish.

Robert shrugs. “If it eases your mind, Aegon has thought about killing me, though he says the impulse passed long ago.”

He steps back in shock and revulsion at the easy admittance and the calm look on Robert’s face. “It is only fair since I thought the same.”

What sort of madness is this? He gestures to the closed door. “What is this, Robert?”

Robert’s face hardens. “I do not need your approval, Eddard Stark.”

Not comprehending, he demands, “What do you mean?”

“I do not need your approval or understanding, like you did not need mine.” 

The dark look on Robert’s face vanishes; a cool mask in place. “For once, be honest with me about the boy you call your bastard, Eddard.”

 _Gods, he knows._ How? When? Is Jon in danger? Sansa! Are all of them in danger? So many questions and all he can say is, “You know.”

He gets a dark smile for his trouble. “Of course I know, Eddard.” 

He swallowed. Eddard again. Not ‘Ned’. Not ‘Stark’. Had Robert even called him Ned since he arrived? 

“How long?”

Robert’s lips curl. Disgust, he recognizes; and hatred. “Far too long and I was never good at pretense.”

He presses, “How long, Robert?”

Robert barks out a laugh. “Did you think Elia could not see her first husband’s marks in a child?”

Ned stiffens. At Winterfell Robert had asked to pay his respects and the woman had been polite. The Robert of old, the one who cursed Rhaegar’s name, would have had been furious and acted. Why did Robert not do anything? Why did he let him keep this secret?

If they learned then…“Why did you never say anything?” 

The answer comes swiftly to him even as he asks. This is not the same man who mourned Lyanna with him. 

Is any of that Robert who was his friend and who loved his sister left in this seemingly unshakeable man? He finds himself hoping, otherwise…

“Because I wanted to see if my friend thought well of me, trusted me to do well by him and his as friends aught.” 

It takes everything in him not to flinch. A test he failed. He never regretted taking in Lyanna’s boy, but there had been a cost. Though he did not blame her for it, Catelyn could never bring herself to be mother to Jon. The bannermen who knew were bitter over it. He spent all this time worrying about everyone who did not know. He feared having to sacrifice his friendship with Robert to keep his promise to Lyanna. Now he knows he still must fear.

Robert steps closer to him, rage etched into every inch of his face. “You were closer to me than my own brothers. We were going to _be_ brothers. We fought together, bled together; and you lied to me. Now I count the moments until I see the back of you.”

Just as quickly, the polite mask was back, though there was no mistaking the hard glint in Robert’s eyes. “After this, other than your daughter’s wedding and for any children my son and she have in be it King’s Landing or in Storm’s End I do not want to see you.”

He nearly retched. For mere minutes, if he saw how bright his daughter’s smile was when the young king held her hand, Robert had seen the same for longer. “Is this why you chose her, to punish me? Do you wish to punish her because her cousin is a man of the Night’s Watch now?”

Robert snorted. “If I wanted the boy dead, he would be dead, Night’s Watch or no. But, I did not choose Sansa because of your sister’s betrayal or yours.”

“Betrayal?” He can barely choke out the word. He prided himself on doing the honorable thing. To keep Jon safe had been the honorable thing. Now he is being punished for it. Jon still might be punished for it. And Sansa…

“I fought to get your sister back and give your family, you, justice! For what? A woman who spit upon my love for her by giving my so-called cousin a child! Those Northmen who came with you would not have lied had it not been for you! You had years to tell me! What else do I call it, my false friend? What did you think I was going to do? What sort of monster do you think I was or am?”

Robert spat out the word “cousin” and “friend”, but, the rest of them were delivered so calmly.

Then, Robert huffs a laugh, eager. “Tell me does he know?”

The change in subject comes so quickly so he answers almost without thought. “Not yet.”

There was ugly triumph in that expression. “I see.”

He had believed Jon would be safer with him; for him to call his nephew his son. Robert had been correct about those reluctant men who call him liege-lord. The three Kingsguard had their own reasons for keeping silent. He never intended for anyone outside of those who knew what happened at the Tower to know. It was supposed to be safety when Jon joined the Night’s Watch shortly after Sansa came south. And now…

“Does it matter if he knows?” He will warn Jon of danger. He has to. He cannot trust Robert. 

As though considering the question, Robert tilts his head. Then, he shrugs. “Not particularly, but, I expect he will want to learn he’s been lied to his entire life by the man he calls his father.” 

A smile curls at Robert’s lips. 

So this was to be Robert’s punishment for him. But, no, that was not the end of it though he wished it was. “It’s not right for a man grown to be so ignorant. But, we were speaking of Sansa, not your sister’s bastard. My wife and I chose her because she is a pretty girl with pretty manners and an unassailable heritage. You realize my son and your daughter are quite fond of one another. It might be love. Break your promise to me like your sister did, but, my wife and I will not go back on our word. There is no one who does not think they know of our friendship. Why give anyone the satisfaction of thinking otherwise?”

Damn him! There is no breaking this betrothal without controversy and questions. Sansa wants to marry Aegon. He read it in her letters. He saw it for himself. Damn Robert who was daring him to break his word, to ‘betray him” again. In that moment he wants to hurt Robert. So he accuses, “He is not your son.”

Robert only smiles. “He is mine in every way that matters.” His foster father wrote enough about the “content” marriage between Robert and Elia Martell, but, was this why Robert married the boy’s mother? “But, we were not talking of my Aegon. Despite your betrayals, you have nothing to fear for your girl or the boy from me.”

“Why say anything at all?”

Robert laughs; a harsh and terrible sound. “Unlike you, I have no qualms about the truth. This farce between us has gone on long enough. In a few days Aegon will rule in truth. What I want will cease to matter.”

“He knows.” The young king had been polite. Was this much of a game to him as it seemed to Robert?

Again, that horrible smile. “Of course he knows, just like my wife, and our Rhaenys do know how Rhaegar Targaryen betrayed them and your sister’s role in it.” 

“You told them?”

“Unlike you I keep nothing from my wife or her children.”

If Aegon knows, then…Sansa! “Does Sansa know?” 

Robert smirks. “Not yet. I imagine he will tell her, especially since you do not seem to want to do it for yourself.” Robert’s cheerful countenance sickens him.

He never intended to tell her. He could take Sansa and go, but, where could he go that he would not have to answer questions? If he broke the betrothal he would have to tell Sansa something. And Catelyn. Some of his bannermen would guess easily. Others would wonder. “You are so certain he will tell her?” 

Sansa would hate him. Catelyn would hate him. His other children would hate him. Jon would hate him. Damn Robert! And he cannot even trust Jon would be safe. What could he do?

That ugly smile widens. “As I said, he is my son.” 

“What will he do?” Even if Robert does nothing, this son of Rhaegar’s was another matter entirely. “Will he kill my nephew?” 

Robert shrugs, as if the prospect was nothing. “Ask him. I think he would not want to be a kinslayer; still, one never knows. Despite a lack of madness, Targaryen blood does flow through him. It is not as though they were raised as brothers. Given who he was born to and how...” 

Robert shrugs again. “He will do what he believes is right, he is a man grown and a king, after all.” 

The Robert he knew would have never uttered these words, but, that Robert was a distant memory. “He is the king you raised.”

Robert’s chin rises. “Elia and I, yes.”

Bile rises in his throat. “You and your wife raised her children to hate my nephew?”

He feels the urge to flinch at the way Robert’s smile widens. “Had it not been for my Elia I would have killed this living reminder of and your sister’s betrayal when we first learned of it. Be glad, Elia helped me forget as I did for her.”

“How can you say this? You loved Lyanna! Why would you kill something that was a part of her? Have you no compassion for a boy who was innocent in this?” If there was any of that Robert of their youth left, he had to try.

He knows the cruel twist of Robert's mouth will haunt him for days. Robert sneers, “You expect compassion for those who deceive me? As for loving your precious Lyanna, I long forgotten what she even looked like.”

Had Robert truly become this monster of a man with a smiling face? “How could you say this when you mourned her?”

Robert snarls, “I mourned her. Then, I learned what I was mourning for. A pack of lies.”

“She did not lie to you.”

Robert’s voice was as cold as Winterfell’s winds. “No, she just ran into the arms of my married cousin as if I was a monster she needed freedom from instead of her betrothed. But, you! You did lie to me! If I did not tell you I know, you would have continued.”

As if it drained away Robert’s anger was replaced by a grim surety he would have never thought Robert capable of.

“Rhaegar Targaryen is dead. Your sister is dead. Everyone knows the story you told. Tell the boy the truth or not. Tell each and every person who loved and trusted you that you have been lying to them; that you have been betraying them as you did me. For me, Eddard Stark, it no longer matters.” 

Robert quit speaking and smiled. It was assured. It was serene. It was the ugliest thing Ned had seen.

* * *

Seeing Elia Martell holding onto the banister in front of her, Ned almost turns around to go back to his rooms. At least she was with Renly and not Robert. He does not think he could stomach that though he had not seen Robert since they spoke he feast and Robert had not sought him out. 

His hopes of the sound of his footsteps being masked by the sounds coming from the practice field below were dashed when she turned towards him with a “Lord Stark”.

Seeing him, Renly nods, but, remains mute.

Like he saw her so many years ago she small in stature and thin. Now, like with Robert there were grey hairs in between the cap of dark hair she did not take pains to hide as other women might. He remembers hearing of her ill health and troubled birthings, but, she managed to survive them all. If Lysa’s letters to Catelyn were to be believed, she managed to survive the last one just barely; due to the actions of the Maester Robert had brought from Storm’s End.

Ever since coming here and that ghastly meeting with Robert he thinks of how Lyanna had not wanted the life Elia Martell had and she received far worse. 

He stiffens when she turns to her good-brother and gestures down below. “Go on, my love, I am sure there are far more amusing things to be doing than trailing after than this old woman.”

Renly snorts, giving his good-sister a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You are not old and it is a part of my duties.” He gives his white cloak a flick of his finger.

Elia Martell smiles. “It has been years since I have had the opportunity to speak to Lord Stark. Off with you, little brother.” 

Renly gives her another kiss and gives him a knowing look. With a flush of shame Ned recognizes Renly thought the subject of conversation was going to be his daughter and not his nephew whose safety he needed to ensure.

The silence which falls after Renly leaves is stifling. 

She breaks it first, “If you are looking for Robert he is not here.”

“I was not expecting to speak to Robert.” 

Robert wants nothing less and he has nothing he wants to say to Robert or could say.

She begins, “He told me you spoke.”

“Princess Elia.” He frowns. Or did she favor Lady Baratheon? Anything was possible. “We have.”

She nodded, but, she does ask, “I take it you will be still with us until the Coronation ceremonies end in their entirety?”

He cannot leave without others remarking upon it. Damn Robert and damn her too for knowing it! “He does not wish to see me, but, yes, I cannot leave even if I wish it.”

She does not protest. Instead, she says, “He is angry, but, you have nothing to fear. You are a guest in this house. He will not do anything untoward. Not now at any rate, he is not even here.” 

He frowns. “Where is he?”

“He will return soon enough from the city, cheeks still ruddy from the cheap ale and properly freshly scrubbed.” 

His eyes go wide and despite his age his cheeks redden at her meaning. “You know about that?”

She looks almost surprised at his shock. “Robert’s anger or the whores?” He does not know how to answer. It is no relief when she takes his silence as permission to wrap her arm in his and start walking. It is less when she takes his silence as a cue to keep speaking.

“I am not fool enough to think Robert was less prone to anger or stopped wenching simply because he put a cloak across my back.” She smiles as though she was offering comfort. 

Lyanna disliked Robert for that very same reason, but, this one seems to think nothing of it. Bitterly, he wonders if that why Robert found it so easy to shift his affections to Elia Martell? 

“You do not mind the whores?” 

Conspiratorially, she smiles at him. “I apologize if I shock you; however, when Robert and I first married, it was something I welcomed.”

“Why?”

She seems almost disappointed at his incomprehension. “Certainly you could see why his going to whores suited me? My husband abandoned me for another woman and Robert made me a widow.” _Another woman. His sister._

She only shrugged. “I was relieved I did not have to do my wifely duty with any regularity.” 

Did they decide Robert was to disturb him while she was to confuse him? “He says he loves you.”

She smiles again. “Now, but, then, we were just a means to an end for one another.” 

If that was how she saw things then did that mean…“How could you say that?” 

Pulling at her shawl, she shrugs again. “In the early days, I did not trust his goodwill. Each night he would come to me I feared not getting up the following morning. If I woke to his smiling face I wondered if he was going to say my children suffered some sort of accident in the night. I tried not to displease him. Accepting such things was one means of accomplishing that.”

He does not know whether to be more shocked or disgusted. How could she sound so composed speaking about fear of her own husband? “What changed?”

Her smile softens. “You cannot possibly know it, but, on our wedding night he called out your sister’s name.”

He flinched. Gods. He does not want to ask, yet, he has to. “He did?”

“He was drunk and I knew he loved her, but, as you can imagine the last thing I ever wanted to hear was the name of the woman who my first husband obsessed over.” 

It sickens him how she smiles as though she was regaling him some amusing anecdote. “I told him in the morning. He gave me a rather clumsy apology. I found it sweet. Before Robert I lived with men who would never think to apologize no matter what they did.” 

Something bitter grows in his stomach, knowing exactly who she was thinking about. “Later that night he swore he would try to not to do that again and presented me with this.” She idly brushed her hand against the necklace she wore. She explained, “It belonged to his mother.” 

Even now she seems charmed. Lyanna would have never suffered the offence, but, Elia Martell was not Lyanna. Bitterly, he thinks Robert must love that about her.

“So he bought you with a piece of jewelry.”

Pointedly, she said, “He already bought me by being willing to secure my children’s future.”

“You said you feared him.”

She nodded. “I did. Terribly; which was why I did not spit on any kindness he offered, but, more and more he offered it.”

Incredulously, he asks, “That is all it took.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You act as though I had much of a choice.”

He does not understand this woman any more than he does Robert now, but, he was not here to speak of their marriage.

He begins, “My nephew.” She remains silent, but, looks expectant. He continues, “Robert said he has no plans to harm him.”

She nods approvingly. “It was not the boy’s fault to be born to who he was.”

He accuses, “You believe there is a fault.”

Keen, dark eyes stare up at him. “Of course I do. His father and mother.”

“You think badly of my sister?” He tells himself to brace for the truth of it though he does not want to hear it.

She sighs. “Truthfully, I do not think of her much.”

“I do not believe you.”

Uncaring, she shrugs again. “Though I will say I do not understand how a lady of noble birth would consider willingly running away with another woman’s husband, I only saw her at Harranhall and cannot speak as to how she was like.”

Once such an even temperament would have consoled him; not anymore. “You are so certain she went willingly.”

“There were oddities in the story you told.” Now all he could think of was that it had been a foolish plan, but, he promised Lyanna. 

“Such as?” Where had he gone wrong? Did anyone tell? Ser Gerold was dead. Neither Ser Arthur and Oswell or his own bannermen would have told. 

“I know why you kept the truth from Robert, and even Lord Arryn for that matter, but, your wife?”

“How do you know I have not told my wife?” Catelyn asked him once about Jon’s mother. It was her right to ask, but, the way he acted only embittered her.

She purses her lips, looking as though she wanted to snort but restrained herself. “I know what it is to be close to family and Lady Arryn is not much for guile.” He cannot argue against that. Catelyn used to say she and Lysa had been close.

She goes on, “Of course, the three Kingsguard who would know would keep it secret from Robert, but, they stood by when Aerys took those terrible liberties with the Queen Dowager. They would have no shame in admitting it if that is what it was.”

Too engrossed, he only realized they were standing in front of the Throne Room. 

He still follows her inside, now knowing he does not have to soften his tone. “That does not answer my question.”

“If Rhaegar took her by force, you, who already had enough reason to hate my husband’s family, would have no reason to keep this secret. Even if you chose not to rid yourself of dishonor done to your family, your honor would demand you reveal it. You did not, therefore, you would have had a different reason to keep silent.” 

A sharp mind for a woman, he thinks. That could be dangerous. He wanted to scream. It already was dangerous. “Now you are going to say you feel so little hate for it.”

At his dubious look, she replies, “I had other things to concern myself with.”

“Such as?” 

Her face holds no gentleness as she lifts her free hand and points. “There, do you see that banner?”

She does not wait for him to speak. “It covers a notch. The rope which your brother was strangled with was suspended from it.” 

He tries to pull his arm free, but, it seems there is strength in that slight body of hers. She pointed elsewhere. “Your father burned to death there.” A different place. “Elbert Arryn.” Another. “Joffrey Mallister”. Another. “Kyle Royce.” Another. “Each day, Ser Jonothor brought Ethan Glover there to watch.”

He closes his eyes. He remembers most of the faces belonging to those names. No doubt, that is why she recited them.

He wishes he could be shocked, but, Ethan Glover said the same things this woman says now. 

_“The night your father and brother were killed I was dragged to the Throne Room. The next night was the same. On the third night, I was torn between fearing I would be next and hoping that it was my turn so I would not live to see another night like those. I want to forget it all.”_

_“Then why did you tell my wife that you did forget the mother of my child.”_

_“Lady Catelyn came to me because she knew me. There was even a Tully man among us. I had to tell her something before she went to someone else. I know what Lord Hoster said of Lord Brandon. Lord Rickard entrusted Lord Brandon with your sister while on the way to Riverrun. Your sister vanished; we believed, taken. No one would have thought her the type to abandon her duties for the promises of a pretty face. All of them died. For what? We all are lying. What’s one more that helps yours along?”_

_“Why did you stand beside me, then?”_

_“I would have done anything to come back home.”_

Ned wanted to thrash him when Ethan told Catelyn Jon’s mother had been no one important and he forgot the name, but, he saw the man’s grief and anger…

Even now, Glover resented Lyanna. The man could never bring himself to look at Jon during his infrequent visits to Winterfell because of it.

She ends, “You know there were also others Aerys thought well of once.”

“That is not my sister’s fault.” 

Elia Martell nods her head for all it seems like mockery, saying, “Despite what many think of the Dornish, there are limits to waving away impropriety. For example, my mother exiled my brother because of the duel he had with a man whose paramour he bedded; not a betrothed or a wife. I can pity a girl not understanding the results of her actions when she died so young, but, that is as far as it goes. That said, I blame my first husband more.”

Even if he does believe her he has nothing to say, not when she goes on, “Aerys was a madman and my husband left my children and me with him. Long after Robert and I married, I used to wake from nightmares; gasping for air. I could not keep my food down because the memory of the smell of burning human flesh stayed with me. Even now I still hear the screams. I cannot help it. Lord Stark, I must beg your pardons, but, Aerys would not have had the opportunity to do any of it had Rhaegar and your sister and kept to their duties and vows.”

Ned clenches his jaw and only stops himself from hurting her or going out the door. He will never get her to see otherwise and, to his own shame, knows he had some of the same thoughts. However, it was not on behalf of the dead he was still here. “And you still say you hold no hatred for their son?” 

“Your nephew is a man of the Watch.” He swallows. The safety was why he allowed Jon to choose that life, but, to hear it from this woman… No matter how candid she was being, he does not trust her.

“Robert does not see him as untouchable.”

She shakes her head. To his repulsion, her expression is fond. “Robert is angry with you, but, I assure you he meant nothing by it for your nephew.”

 _Nothing by it?_ “You speak as though you can make assurances.” 

Now, she smiles. “I am his wife.” A wife who clearly shares his bitterness and anger though she masks it better.

“He said would have killed him if it was not for you.” The Robert he knew would have never said that. The Robert he remembered would have done what he promised.

“Did he?” She sounded pleased as though they were talking of a tapestry, not a child’s murder.

“Even if Robert does nothing, you harbor a hatred for your former husband. Your son knows. How do I trust one hatred will not result in another?”

Her lips twitch. How can she glean amusement from this? “My daughter might tell you she harbors a greater one against Rhaegar than my son might. However, why do anything against a boy, well, a man, now I suppose, neither ever met?” 

Once again she fills the silence, “My children and my husband know I have seen enough innocent blood shed. As I said, the circumstances of your nephew’s his birth are not his fault. ”

“He could still suffer for it.” 

She frowns. “It is nothing new for people suffer for the actions of others, Lord Stark. It is how one reacts to it that matters.” 

Even if there was no danger to Jon, Ned could never trust there would not be. He remembers his confrontation with Robert. Jon would suffer for learning the truth; how Ned lied to him; to everyone they love.

“You thrive in your hatred.”

She does not react to the barb though he almost wishes she would. “I reserve mine for those who deserve it.” 

She sighs, but, her tone is firm as she moves her hand from his arm to adjust her shawl again. “Lord Stark, I know there is nothing I can say or do to convince you of anything. All I can say is this, I am only a woman who knows her duty. I have a husband, a daughter with a family of her own, and a son who is my king. If they are of the same mind then I will support them in whatever they decide. I believe and trust them in this, but, if you wish to hear it from my son, please talk to him. He will tell you the same.” 

Her face was as serene as Robert’s had been. “Come, Lord Stark, I will see you to your rooms.”

Thankfully, she approaches the first person to see him to the rooms appointed him and she goes in the opposite direction. 

Staying behind to speak to the woman had been a mistake. He doubts she would make arrangements when it comes to Jon. He still knows she would not flinch if someone else did.

* * *

He wanted to leave this awful city, but, he could not yet. So, he was in the Great Hall at one of the first of a handful of feasts in honor of the King’s coronation though the boy had been king for nearly the entirety of his life.

Watching as everyone around him made merry, he sat at his table, troubled. Sansa was dancing with the King; joy clear on her face. Ned knew that same joy would turn to hatred for him if he decided to end the betrothal. He had told her nothing. He pushes his eyes toward Edmure and his Targaryen wife, trying to ignore the voice inside of him saying he should inform Sansa of the truth before someone else does. Each time Sansa smiles at her betrothed, it hurts, partly because he knows from Robert the smiles Aegon gives her are just as genuine.

Both Robert’s brothers were in the Hall. Stannis was having some sort of discussion with his son and his good-father while his Lannister wife was dancing with her brother. Renly, still garbed in the white he was given after the death of Ser Gerold, was seated at a table with Viserys Targaryen and his bride, Princess Arianne.

The trio were drinking and laughing with a group of younger people including Princess Rhaenys and her Tyrell husband. Of the others, he could make out Martell features on most of them, but, the pair of ladies with even darker hair had taken initially him by surprise. The hair was like Renly’s. Robert’s two girls, Mya and Belle, Jon had said.

Lyanna had not wanted to be married to him for the same reason, but, earlier he had seen Elia Martell embrace both of the girls and give them soft smiles like Catelyn gave their own children. She never gave similar ones to Jon. 

He nearly flushed with shame thinking of that. Both Robert’s girls were born before his former friend married the Targaryen widow while Catelyn believed he broke his vows to her. He is all too aware of how he continues to let her believe it.

Now, Robert and his wife were dancing, Robert’s hand secure on her back, pressing her flush against him; the both of them swaying together to the music.

He wants to look away but he cannot. Not a moment ago a pretty, buxom girl passes by them and for a moment Robert turns his head, but, with one gentle hand of Elia Martell put to Robert’s cheek, Robert returned his attention to his wife, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before leaning down to whisper in her ear. Something twists inside him with the pair share a smile and Robert pulls Elia Martell closer against him. 

Ever since that ghastly time with Robert he thought of Lyanna. Now, even those thoughts are tainted.

 _“My Elia helped me forget”_ , Robert had said. Now it was him who could not ignore the way Robert found happiness with his wife.

Once again Ned looks at Sansa who was still dancing with the young king. They looked just as content as Robert and Elia Martell do.

When he looked again he saw Robert watching the same thing. Then, Robert seemed to notice the weight of his eyes.

Robert said King Aegon and Princess Rhaenys knew. He cannot help but wonder which of the others knew and dreads getting an answer.

As if he knew his thoughts, Robert smirked, only to turn around and kiss his smiling, willing wife.

* * *

“Your Grace, you have been expecting me.”

All he gets is an impassive face. “Please sit.” 

He does. The young king continues, “Father and Mother told me you spoke.” His eyes widen. Gods, what else had they told Aegon Targaryen?

“What do you intend to do?”

An eyebrow rises. “About your nephew or about you?”

He was in no mood to play games, not with Robert’s sneering face with Princess Elia’s tranquil one still clear in his memory. “If you are going to threaten or punish me then get it over with.”

The silver haired youth laughs. There was something musical about it. Briefly he wonders if this was something he inherited from his father. Did Robert ever have the same thought? “Why should I do that?”

“Any other king would punish me.” His grandfather had done more for less and the both of them are too aware of it.

Aegon Targaryen sits down heavily in a chair. He remembers Robb and Jon doing much the same. The young king’s words, however, display no signs of youth. “If I have to punish you for lying then I have to punish others. It would waste too much of my time and energy. I am not so cruel a man, Lord Stark.” Thoughts of Aerys Targaryen float back to him. 

The boy might not be his grandfather and he shows no signs of madness, but, he doubts Aegon Targaryen would care about his burdens. “You are going to tell Sansa.”

Purple eyes widen in surprise. “I have already told her. Even if you break the betrothal, she deserves to know.”

He stands up. “What!”

Robert would enjoy his having to tell all he loved he lied to them. Perhaps so would the young man, _king_ , in front of him. “Why?” 

He gets an incredulous look in return, with accusation in it. “I love her. Whether or not she is to be my wife, I do not wish to continue to lie to her.” Like he lies to Catelyn. 

The boy’s eyes tell him he knows he hit the mark, but, just as quickly his face eases into a kingly mask. “Lord Stark, you lie to your family, most of your bannermen, and to my sire’s other son; however, I have long since known. It makes no difference to me how others see you, but, I do not wish to be hampered by the burdens your lies present.”

He wants to attack, but, he cannot using bodily harm. Instead, he attack a different way though it is low of him. “Why do you call him your sire’s son? Why do you call Rhaegar Taragaryen your ‘sire’ and not ‘father’?”

A smile comes and disappears; the voice remains cool and the shrug, nonchalant. “Rhaegar Targaryen was not here for my birth. In fact, he rarely held me even when he was here. He was not the man I snuck off to see when I suffered a nightmare. He did not teach me to read, ride a horse, or gave me my first weapon. He is not my father in any way that matters.” 

Robert said the same thing.. It also does not escape him those are the same things he had done with his own sons and Jon. 

“He would have had the man you now call Father not killed him.”

Purple eyes smile back at him. “Lord Stark that was war. Also, I am not ignorant with the hatred Robert Baratheon is capable of.” 

He does not know whether to be shocked or appalled. “He was cruel to you.” The way Robert spoke told him nothing of the sort.

He gets a considering look. After a minute, the other speaks. “Robert Baratheon never took a hand to me, if that is what you mean. Before I truly understood, however, there were other things. Praise came halting to his tongue. An embrace would come a moment too slowly. At times his lips used to curl in disgust or he would look at me as if seeing someone else. As it stands, however, Robert Baratheon would have never been in that position had my sire betrayed my mother, my sister, and I.”

Ned hesitates at the clear distaste of Rhaegar Targaryen. What must he do to prevent it from turning in other directions? “What does that mean for my nephew?”

Aegon Targaryen sits back in his chair. “I would apologize for Father’s approach, however, his quarrels are not mine. For our purposes, mine is not with Jon, either.” Ned nearly flinches at the first time Aegon uses Jon’s name. He looks so sincere and sounds it. Ned wishes he could believe in such things. 

“No?”

Eyes no longer smiling, Aegon replies, “There are some, a few of my Kingsguard, for example, who would say Rhaegar Targaryen had been a great man.” 

Why the change in subject? Or was it? But, now there was a slight smirk and Ned wonders if Ser Gerold went to his grave knowing Aegon knew. Sers Arthur and Oswell do not seem to. In the back of his mind he knows he should warn them, but, he dismisses the thought. He was here for Jon. He tells himself they could help themselves. 

“Perhaps they are correct, yet, he is long dead.” Ned swallows with some difficulty as the younger man shrugs again. “Mayhap it is just as well Jon is a man of the Night’s Watch where his history would not matter and more importantly, he has a family born of his own choice.”

Before he can take comfort in any that, Aegon tilts his head and asks a question which was not a question. “He is a man who would keep vows made in good faith?”

“He is a man of honor.” 

When he gets another smile, he thinks himself a fool for using those words given Jon’s parentage and who he was speaking to. “Let us hope so, Lord Stark.”

This was just as taxing as speaking to Robert. “What do you plan to do if he does break his vows?"

There was that sad smile again. “When I was very young, Father told me-” Ned stops himself from shivering at the title given to Robert. The young king continues, “The punishment for desertion of the Night’s Watch is death. Yet, to carry out the sentence had been a matter of the Warden of the North.”

He does not know how Jon would react to the truth and that is all he can think about since he came here. He let the lie stand because the truth is nothing Jon can take pride in. 

He tells himself to breathe. If it came to that, it _would_ be for him to pass the sentence. He knows better than to trust how the young man in front of him shows no eagerness at the prospect. Jon would not put him in such a position, but… “Is that supposed to be a comfort?”

Another shrug. “If he is half the man you think him to be and taught him to be then he will overcome his disappointments.”

That was easy for this one to say. He recalls Robert’s words about lying. “You had years to reconcile the truth of this.”

Solemnly pressed lips open and even more solemn words spill from them. “I did.” There is something sad about the younger man’s expression for all that the young king raises his chin. “Lord Stark, I am Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name. I am also the grandson of a madman and the son of a man who gave into his family’s madness and become a raper of a Lord Paramount’s daughter; or so the story goes.” 

Ned feels the weight of the words all the more keenly because it was the story he told. 

Aegon sighs. “The truth is Rhaegar Targaryen humiliated my mother before abandoning our family, leaving us with the madman my grandfather truly was. I must live knowing that. Jon exists because our sire crossed lines no one should cross and did so long before our mad grandfather, who killed his other grandfather and his uncle, gave you a reason to rebel. What can I do when the truth punishes enough? He does not deserve such cruelty from those who share his blood.”

He does not know whether to be relieved at the sound of a brisk knock at the door because the words long since stopped offering him respite. 

Aegon rises. Ser Barristan, seeing him, looks shocked, but, recovers enough to nod before turning back to the young king. Ser Arthur was a half a step behind him. 

“Sers, how can I help you?” Now the younger man was all gracious king, no trace of their discussion on his face at all. 

There was slight distaste in Ser Barristan’s expression. “Your Grace, it has been brought to my attention ceremonies were opportune times to bless worthy individuals with knighthoods.”

Aegon laughed. “I see. I take it certain suggestions were provided.”

Ser Barristan’s distaste grows. “They were.”

Aegon nods, knowingly. “Did they require a king do the honors or would not a finer knight, such as one of the Kingsguard, be appropriate?” 

Ned had almost forgotten the king was a knight in his own right, but, what strikes him now is the hope in Arthur’s face when Barristan’s response of “Either would suit” shows the man does not want the responsibility.

Aegon nodded. “Then please give Ser Jaime the list of names. He can do the honors.”

Seeing the brief flash of despondency on Ser Arthur’s face, Ned pulls his gaze away. Ned begins to wonder if there will be a similar price exacted for keeping secrets from a different young man. 

Aegon smiles again, “It would please Lord Tywin and I can think of no way better to thank Ser Jaime for being willing to take me on as a squire in my youth.” 

The words spoken between them about Kingsguard put paid to the idea that the young king’s sentiments were completely true, but, they were for Ser Barristan, not him. 

At any rate, they were well received. “We will leave you to it then, Your Grace, Lord Stark.”

The young king smiles beatifically at his knights. 

When they were alone again, he cannot help himself. “And you say you are not cruel.”

The young king turns back to him, eyebrow raised. “In what way?”

“Ser Arthur, as the second longest appointment to the Kingsguard, is entitled to the honor.”

A smirk. “Does a man in the service of a king who lies to him deserve any honor?” 

“He had a duty to obey Prince Rhaegar.” He almost called the Prince Aegon’s father but decided against it.

“In staying away in my mother’s homeland, his own homeland, knowing he had no business being there and failing to return when called, he disobeyed the last king. Of course, he deliberately lies to me about matters, as king, I should know about. It could be cruel, Lord Stark, however, being lied to by those who should protect one’s interests is equally cruel. That said, I would think it much better to concern yourself with the sentiments of your nephew and your family, and not Ser Arthur’s.”

Saying nothing more, knowing he would get nothing more, he leaves.

Aegon Targaryen may hold no hatred for Jon, but, the young king, like with Ser Arthur, has no mercy for him, not for their lies. 

When he opened the doors to his appointed chambers and saw Sansa waiting, there was none from her. 

After she leaves, he thinks about Jon. If Jon shares more than blood with Aegon Targaryen and Sansa, he thinks he might not have any from his nephew, either.

* * *

By keeping this secret he thought he had been doing the right thing. Now, he thinks of Robert’s smirking face. It tells him otherwise.


	4. Sansa, 302 AC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reads, kudos, comments, and bookmarks.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, Sansa was once again reminded her nameday was within a fortnight. The thought brings a smile to her face. How could she control it? Why would she? The week after, she would be married to a man she knew and loved; a man who would make her a queen. 

The dreams she had as a young girl were finally going to be realized in front of gods and men and her mother. Thinking about her dear mother gives her naught but joy, that and longing. It has been far too long since she had seen her. Of course, it was not only her mother she was going to see. Robb would be and Bran would be here. Jon was coming too, though in his capacity of the Lord Commander’s Steward and not strictly as her family. Yet, she knew, he was that equally.

‘Family’, she thinks again; though, now her smile dims. Father was not going come. 

She is unsure if Father would have wanted to attend her wedding. Part of her does not know whether or not she wanted him to want to. Once she might have been shaken at the merest possibility of it though even before, on the rare occasions father took any interest in her, usually after she and Arya fought over something or other, he’d say, in that gruff way of his, she had acted “like a lady ought” only for him smile at her sister in a way he never had for her. 

And now while his absence might have been noteworthy, with murmurs of “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell” and ‘Robb can do the honors in Father’s stead’ most nod agreeably. Even though it should not be so easy to explain away, who can deny Ned Stark’s uneasy past with King’s Landing?

The days of her childhood had been good days, but, she remembers how it used to be feeling so odd because she had been so different from her brothers and sister; so different from him. 

It hurt knowing the one thing she learned about her father before them had been that he’d been lying to them all. What hurt more was that, he’d been lying to mother and Uncle Benjen before that and now they were all complicit in a lie. It goes against everything he taught her, Arya, and her brothers. 

“Thinking so much will give you wrinkles. No one likes a queen with them.”

She tries to laugh at Rhaenys’ words. To her disgust the sound comes out like a garbled sigh. She will be queen in little under a month. She ought to do better even if she had little to hide from her future good-sister.

She gestures to Rhaenys to take a seat while straightening in her own. “If I am to be a queen, then I will order them not to appear.” Silly words to say, but, she would say anything to keep those other thoughts at bay.

Rhaenys pours herself a glass of wine. The Dornish vintage, she notes when Rhaenys jokes back, “It is good that you have the hauteur enough for a queen to try.” 

Then, Rhaenys adds, “You look worried.”

She sighs. “I am simply thinking.”

She grimaces even before she sees Rhaenys rolls her dark eyes. “Obviously. What about?”

“Marriage.”

Only the years they spent in close company allow her to see the widening of Rhaenys’ eyes. “Aegon loves you.”

“I love him just as much.” She means it. Even if they fought at times, once quite thoroughly, she knew this. 

Rhaenys’ curiosity is so very clear. “And yet?”

“My father loved my mother and I cannot stop thinking of how he lied to her for years.”

Rhaenys frowns and then the expression was gone when she licked her lips. She knew what it meant: an attempt at being tactful when Rhaenys wishes she did not have to be. “And I remember your row with Aegon about his own lies and mine. You reconciled that eventually. You never properly reconciled with your father. Is that is what bothers you?”

She wished it was. “You lied to me, not everyone you claimed to love. It was not his lie to begin with or yours.”

Rhaenys whispers, “That is the difference, is it?”

In part. ‘You are a good girl, Sansa.’ ‘You should be truthful and conduct yourself with honor.’ 

He used to say those words all-the-while lying to everyone about others who acted dishonorably, by his own estimation. “If you lied, Father lied first. It is not even the matter of him, either. I know the truth kept from me, from everyone. You know as well as I do everyone who should know does.” 

And it is still a lie the have to tell most. 

Rhaenys opens her mouth and in the next moment presses her lips together. After a while, she asks, “It is not that your cousin is coming to the wedding is it?” 

If it was far from the first time she heard ‘Your cousin’ from her friend even if it was rare to hear Rhaenys acknowledge the true relationship Jon had with them at all. 

Sansa shrugs. “Jon and I played as children, but, like with Robb, he had his own studies and I had mine. When I came south he went north. I think I should like to see him. Of course, besides, he is coming as the Lord Commander’s Steward; not quite as a relation.”

She does not add he is not coming as a relation of either Rhaenys’ or Aegon’s even if no one else was around to hear the truth of it. 

Obviously knowing what she had not said, Rhaenys looks away for a moment. Then, “Do you want it to change?” 

Their relationship already has changed and it took a revelation of the truth to manage it. “There is nothing to change. I am here and I am happy. He is a man of the Watch and in each letter he writes to me he finds himself happy as he could be as that.”

Rhaenys nods sharply. “So it is not Jon, either.”

It was always ‘Jon’ or “Cousin” from Rhaenys in private. She knew better than to expect anything else. She doubted Rhaenys could bring herself to call Jon ‘brother’, even if she wished to one day.

And still, this has gone on long enough. “No, it is not.”

“What is it, then?”

“Can a person not be nervous about being married?” 

As a girl she asked her mother similar questions. 

_“Since I was a girl of ten and two it was arranged I was to marry your Uncle Brandon. I knew him. I did not know your father when we married.”_

_“Were you unhappy that you married him and not Uncle Brandon?”_

_Shame filled her when she saw the way her mother’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Not for long. Your father is an honorable man.”_

Honorable men do not lie to their wives to cover up another person’s dishonor no matter who it was. When she was young they thought they could not hear, she knew the servants at Winterfell would speculate about Jon. If the lie hurt her mother, the truth her father kept from her hurt her such as much. 

She draws out a long breath in time to see Rhaenys nod. “Everyone is.”

With some incredulity and no small sense of relief in finding another marriage to think about rather than that of her father and mother, she asks, “Even you?” 

She could not imagine it. Rhaenys and Lord Willas were devoted to each other. Looking at Rhaenys, however, “You were!” 

Rhaenys admits, “I was terrified.” 

Try as she might prevent it, her face scrunches up. “I don’t think I believe you. You and Lord Willas are almost sickening at times.”

Even if her expression turns fond, Rhaenys snorts. “You are a fine one to talk the way you and Aegon carry on. Besides you only came to Highgarden after I married. I was relieved Willas did not hate me on sight.”

Knowing what she does about the well-mannered heir of Highgarden she cannot imagine his hating Rhaenys. “Why would he hate you? You are a princess.”

Rhaenys laughs and in the way she used to so many years ago when they had been girls at Higharden. “Must we speak of this again? People can hate princesses and the only thing not Dornish about me is my name.”

Rhaenys was far too bold in many ways. _‘Can you imagine? Rather silly a notion for me to be named after that queen. Alas, my name certainly was not my mother’s idea.’_

Remembering the first time she met Rhaenys, she rolls her eyes. Still, “How could you be terrified?”

Rhaenys shakes her head softly. “You know his injury.”

Oft unmentioned, she knew how he received it. Dutifully she recites, “He took in in a duel.”

This time Rhaenys rolls her eyes. “My uncle was the one to give it to him.” 

She nods briskly. She heard that too. “So?”

Rhaenys’ lips twitch. “It is bad enough the Dornish and the Reach are consistently at odds. Can you imagine a wife foisted upon you because you think your traditional enemies pity you? Of course I was relieved Willas is one of the best men I know. Still, I am relieved his temperament reflects more of his mother’s people rather than his father’s.” 

Her breath caught. There was nothing more she could say to that, especially because she had the same fears or rather the exact opposite. Even if the former Regent or the Princess never acted differently towards her once she learned about Jon’s parentage in the infrequent times they returned from Storm’s End, she always wondered if their dislike of her father for keeping the secret of Jon’s heritage would mean for her. 

At the thought, it takes an effort not to let her emotions show. 

Though she decided against doing so, she does not know if Father would have broken the betrothal if she desired it. What Father had been thinking agreeing to the betrothal if the possible results of the truth being discovered occurred to him in the first place? He had no answer for why were promises made to Lyanna Stark and Jon’s safety more important to him than anyone else’s. He claimed fear of reprisal and yet, he went as far to claim even if Aegon’s mother and her husband did not do anything others might. Yet, there were enough who knew and did nothing. What fear then? Why the continued lie?

She takes a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

Rhaenys almost looks just as relieved at the change of subject as she does. “Mother wants to see you.”

Her eyes widen and she blurts, “The Princess is coming to see me? Why?” 

Rhaenys smiles wryly. “At this point, I think you can start calling her ‘Mother’ as well. I think she might enjoy it. ”

She is not opposed to the term, yet, she has her own mother and Elia Martell is an entirely different woman. “What makes you think she wants that?”

“Willas calls her that, as do Mya, Belle, and Gendry.”

She opens her mouth only to close it a moment later. “I do not know.”

Rhaenys insists, “I am sure she would not mind your calling her that.”

Before she could reply there was a knock on the door. “Come in!”

A moment later, her eyes take in the sight of a slender framed woman with a head of dark hair with streaks of gray entering the room. She swallows. Rhaenys certainly had not been lying. 

“I hope I am not interrupting something?”

With Rhaenys speaking, she only hopes the too sharp form her curtsey took went unnoticed. “I was just telling Sansa she can call you, ‘Mother’.”

She nearly gasps in shock. Has Rhaenys gone mad or had her questions about Willas made Rhaenys belligerent?

The older woman snorts. “Daughter, Sansa can call me whatever she wishes, provided it is not some variation of ‘hag’. Well, where someone can overhear her, anyway.” 

While she remains mute, Rhaenys laughs. Despite herself, her breath catches when the princess turns to her. “My dear, as I told you the first time we met, you can call me whatever you are comfortable with.”

She can only nod. Hugging her mother, Rhaenys adds slyly. “If my husband can call you Mother, so can my brother’s wife.”

Her future good-mother grins at her daughter. “I think your husband does it because it annoys his father.” 

Rhaenys snorts. Then the princess’ face slips into a fond expression. “Rhae-”

Another knock and then there is a whirlwind in her room, “Mother! Mother!” 

Despite the situation, she tries to pinch her lips trying to stop her laughter as Rhaenys turns to her son. “Baelor, it is not polite to come into someone’s rooms without permission, apologize.” 

The boy turns to her. “Sorry, Aunt Sansa.” 

She waves his apology away. Even in the situation she found herself in she never could be mad with Highgarden’s future heir with the Hightower name and looks, especially not with the way the boy hugs his mother. 

She wonders when her own sons, when she has them, will hug her like this. She hopes so.

“What is so important, Baelor?”

“Father misses Mother.”

The only thing that stops her from laughing now is his earnest face. Rhaenys however, has no compunctions against it. “Then why is he not here to tell me himself?” Remembering Rhaenys’ earlier words she almost chokes. 

If possible the boy’s face becomes more excited, he was bouncing so much. “Uncle Gendry has swords. Father has one too.”

Rhaenys rolled eyes tell Sansa exactly what her friend is thinking. 'Men and their toys'. 

Though Lord Willas rarely wields a weapon much, like most men of their ilk even he appreciates a well-made one and it is no secret to her, even without Aegon’s comments, Lord Robert’s son has a certain aptitude for it. 

Her eyes widen in shock when Rhaenys chirps, “Well then, I will leave you two to talk.” 

Baelor gives his grandmother a kiss and gives her a cheerful wave when Rhaenys nudges her son along. 

Once the door shuts behind the pair, though she was angled in such a way she knew the Princess cannot see her, she glares at the closed door. How does a princess born and bred not even try to be subtle? 

Nervous as she was, Sansa barely suppresses a cracked laugh. Rhaenys never saw such a need. The look Princess Elia now gives her tells her the same thing. The amiable expression does not set her at ease. While she is rarely in Elia Martell’s company and the other woman had not said one unkind word to her, she never quite knows where she stands with Aegon’s mother. 

Alarm with the prospect of being alone with the Dornishwoman aside, eventually her manners won out and she takes her time to gesture. “Please sit.”

When the woman does, she clears her throat. “Rhaenys said you wanted to see me.” 

She tries not to frown. Rhaenys left the room quickly enough to make it possible.

Elia Martell smiled at her knowingly. “Yes, I did.” Before she could ask, the princess holds out the package in her hands. “I would have your opinion on this work of mine.”

Why would this woman want her approval? And what work?

Curious, she takes the preferred package.

She opens it to reveal a mass of black velvet cloth. Brows furrowed, she shakes it out only to gasp at the sight of the red dragon embossed in the center of it. Her eyes widen. A cloak; her wedding cloak. 

“Do you like it?” 

Looking out She stammers out a “Ye- _yes_.” She takes a breath. “It is beautiful.” It was. Rich cloth, smooth to the touch. Absolutely beautiful, but, the details… 

She knew the Targaryen colors were red and black, but, this was _Baratheon black and Martell red_. She does not have to ask what it means. Instead she asks different questions.

“What is it like being married?”

For a moment the princess simply looks at her and then, “Certainly Rhaenys and your lady mother have offered their own advice.”

She takes a breath. There was nothing for it now. “It is not their son I am marrying.” 

She will count the incline of the princess’ head as a victory though she was unsure if they were engaged in a battle for all that in other circumstances it would have been one. Then, Elia Martell settles back and closes her eyes. “To answer your question marriage can be beautiful and it can be ugly.” 

She frowns, “Ugly?”

The princess opens her eyes, her expression as serious as Aegon’s could be when he was in council. “You know I have been married twice. My first marriage was to a man who I thought I could be happy with only for the world to turn on its head. My second is to a man who I thought the worst of before I married him.”

She blurts, “And yet you married him?”

Aegon said his mother’s marriage to Robert Baratheon was a happy one, yet, she could never understand it. Then again, what had she known about marriage she learned from watching her father and mother and then later between the various Tyrells at Higharden. The marriage between the Stormlord and the Dornishwoman, what little she saw of it, was like none of those. 

She is very perplexed when Elia Martell smiles a bit. “I did, though even his proposal of it left far too much to be desired.” 

Confused and curious, she ventures, “Was it that bad?”

In response, Elia Martell howls in laughter.

_“Marry me?” Of all the things she expected when he ‘requested’ she dine with him, she was not expecting this._

_Her appetite gone, she puts her fork and knife in her plate. She also takes extra time to push it away. “Why?”_

_He frowns. Then, he grumbles, admitting, “Lannister wants me to marry his daughter. I won’t marry the daughter of a man who refused to choose until there was little to no choice.”_

_Oh, of course. Tywin Lannister would be the type and Cersei Lannister had been pretty even as a child. Why this then? All the possibilities buzz in her mind and she still cannot think of a reason which makes sense._

_She saw how her hesitation is starting to irritate him. He had not harmed her and she knew he would not, yet, she could not help it. “Even so, why me? You have just said, there will be others happy to give their daughters to you.”_

_He growls, “The lot of them can go to the Seven Hells.”_

_Unbidden her eyes widen and her lips turn downward. Why the vehemence? What does he want? “What do you get from this when I cannot give you neither a child nor love? I am even older than you by some years.” She does not want to anger him and yet, she does not trust his motivations at all._

_He looks put out, as though he expected the refusal, not the questions. ‘No matter’, he says before he returns, “You are not so long in the tooth. Besides, your husband took the only woman whose love and children I wanted.”_

_She sits up; her spine now ramrod straight. How dare he? He proposes marriage and he has the gall to throw that in her face! She bares her teeth. “Is it to be some sort of exchange? Let my son have his crown and take me to wife. What is it you truly want?”_

_He throws his head back and laughs. “You are a funny one, aren’t you? ‘What I want?’”_

_He leans forward and despite the table between them it takes everything in her not to move back. “Very well, I will tell you what I want since you want to know so badly: what I want my Lyanna and to have killed Aerys myself. You and I both know he was already dead and nothing will bring my Lyanna back to life. What do I care about taking your boy’s crown? I do not want it, and unlike your husband, I am not a thief.”_

_Her lips tighten and her eyes harden at the attempt at a reassuring smile. “You do not have to remind me of what he did, my lord. Do you think it will help your cause whatever it is? Are you trying to prove you are a better man than he was supposed to be?” She does not bother stopping the sneer on her lips._

_At his delighted expression she wants to take up the knife she pushed away only a moment ago._

_“‘Supposed to be’. This is why I consider this in the first place.”_

_Why does he not speak plainly? Despite herself, she nearly growls when he adds, “You are bitter.”_

_“Bitter?” Does he find her situation amusing? Disgusted, she is certain of it._

_He smiles. Gods, what she would not do to wipe it from his face._

_He sneers, “Do not pretend to hide it, woman. The bitterness and anger towards your husband are there. The three so-called Kingsguard who helped hide my Lyanna away also see it. Where it saddens them, it thrills me. But, I was going to ask you even if I did not see that in you.”_

_He goes on, smirking that ugly smirk, “As to proving myself, I proved I am the better man by besting your precious husband on the battlefield. That was only after he dishonored you just as much he did me by taking my Lyanna to the home of your mother’s.”_

_She takes a sip of wine before speaking though all she wants is to fling the glass and its contents in his face._

_Damn him! She can take all the time she desires, it will not make his words less true. He knows it too and to combat it all she had were blunt tools. “I had to look away and stay silent once at Harrenhal and once again when my husband did the unthinkable. Even when you fought to reclaim your lady, they say you were in a brothel when Lord Connington searched for you. I know you’ve frequented the Street of Silk more than once. Why should I marry another man whose mind and gaze will be elsewhere?”_

_He smirks. “Why would it matter if I remain in your bed or look elsewhere for whatever I desire? I am not asking you to think well of me and at least you know where I stand.”_

_It seems as though it takes nearly everything in him not to grin when she glares at him. She hisses out, “That is not what I meant and you know it.”_

_He rises and walks to stand behind her chair to rest a hand on her shoulder. Though she does not go to shake his hand off, she shivers at his proximity._

_“Not so cold a fish.” She grimaces. Evidently, the oaf takes her reaction for something else._

_Forced to look up at him, she sneers, “Cold or not, fish or not, do not touch me.”_

_He looks down at her. “Aye, not cold or fish at all, and yet, it must have been some time you have been touched by a man.”_

_His face darkens before hers does. She could not have understood his thoughts more clearly if he voiced them: Rhaegar should have touched her more instead of touching his betrothed. Once, she might have thought the same. No longer. After what he put her through and was put through because of him, why would she have wanted anything from Rhaegar? She wants no man to touch her, after all, only Aerys would have thought nothing of touching her this year past._

_Thinking of it, she flinches and as if burned, Baratheon quickly drops his hand from her shoulder. Baratheon must have come to the same conclusion._

_Now, he looks embarrassed._

_‘Good’, she thinks savagely. He should be._

_He hurriedly sits back down and hastily takes a gulp of wine, not looking at her. He takes a deep breath. When he speaks again his voice is suspiciously soft, gentle even. She nearly snorts._

_“As I said, Princess, I do not want your son’s crown. And if I wanted to keep your children away from you I would have already. I do not want that. I can promise you a good life; one without unpleasant surprises from me.”_

_Is that supposed to placate her? “I believed in promises before. Look where that got me.”_

_Her jaw clenches at how earnest he looks. “There are worse things to be than the Lady of Storm’s End. You know because you lived it.”_

_This time she does not bother hiding her disgust or care she might make him angry. “What do you know, let alone of what I lived?”_

_Now his chin juts out; mulish. “I know you know this place and its people. I know I need a wife who is not a fool. I know you are not one. I also know you will not get a better offer.”_

_She cannot help laughing. How low had she fallen that this is what she had to recommend her? A princess of Dorne and this is the best she can get?_

_Oh, but, it is true isn’t it? Gods…_

_She sighs, “You are so eager to have me, Lord Robert?”_

_She shivers again, wondering if the determined look on his face was the last thing Rhaegar saw before he died. She wonders if she will see the same fate no matter how this conversation ends._

_“Yes. I would have you at my side, as my wife.” He adds, “I mean to be good to you and you children. I swear it.”_

_He has a look on his face which implies patience and good will, but, why bother pretending she has a choice now if she ever did. Baratheon even holds his hand out, palm facing up. A gesture of trust where it does no good._

_“Then you shall have me.” She sighs again as she places her hand in his all the while trying to think of what that expression of his is supposed to be._

She must look like a proper fool, gaping like she surely was. “That-that is horrible.”

Again, that airy laugh. “Oh, I suppose it does seem that way.”

Seems that way?

“But, you love him?” What happened between them to allow for this?

She cannot decipher what is behind the princess’ smile. “Of him I came to know the best as I did the worst. He learned the same of me. In spite of or because of that, it made all the difference. I only know that I am happy now because of the choices I made then.”

Though she knew she should have, she asks the question she never could before, “Why did you and the former regent choose me to be Aegon’s bride?”

The other woman’s positively wicked countenance is not something she sees often. “There are only so many young ladies worthy of marrying a king and I had already given my daughter to the Tyrells. I also rather enjoy how the elder of my good-brother’s thanks me consistently for not giving them more than that.” 

At her dazed look, the princess laughs again. She thinks there might have been warmth and not mockery in the sound. “Oh, my dear, I jest. We asked for your hand on behalf of my son because you were sure you would make him a fine bride.” 

There was nothing she could say to that without making herself sound more foolish than she already does do herself. 

She tenses when the princess tilts her head. “Is there any reason why we should not have chosen you?” 

Distractedly it, occurs to her that it was always “we” again, never simply “I” in the rare times she is in close enough proximity of the princess or former regent to hear them speak of one another. She wonders at it, but, the princess looks expectant. Hesitantly, she starts, “My aunt-”

Not even looking surprised she would mention Aunt Lyanna, Elia finishes, “Is not you.”

Her lips pinch. She knew it well enough Arya was the one who looked like Aunt Lyanna, not her. Father said it often. When her father finally admitted the circumstances behind the disappearance of Aunt Lyanna and Jon’s birth, in between the surprise and the hurt, it was something of a relief she had more of the Tully look and yet…“If not because I am a Stark, then, why?”

Again that full laugh. Rarely was she alone with the princess and she has heard it more than most. “You, my dear, are proving my point.”

Confused, she asks, “What is that?”

“You do not understand.” 

Looking almost sad, the princess exhales loudly. “Let me explain it a different way. Can you call yourself my good-daughter knowing I might have felt that way?”

Can she? She already knows the answer. She remained here, didn’t she? “I would not be here otherwise”.

After a moment, the older woman gives her an approving look. “Precisely.” 

The older woman gives her a reassuring smile. “Perhaps long before you grow to be a mother and at my age you might come to believe that your children deserve nothing but the best. You turned out to be better than I had hoped.”

‘Better than she hoped?’ What did that mean?

After taking a sip of wine, Elia Martell says, “You still do not understand.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Marriage to a Targaryen is not easy, child, much less when you marry with one with a crown. From what I have seen of you I think you are quite up to the task.”

“What made me better? That I do not look like a Stark.”

She just smiles. “A queen ought to be pretty. You are that. You were pretty as a child even. I will not lie and say it was never a relief you look more like a Tully, however, before I laid an eye on you I knew that my husband had two daughters and a son aside from those I gave him and they take after him. If I love them no less deeply than I do my own, what makes you think the possibility of your looking like a Stark would matter?”

This was an answer; not a complete one.

“I do not want the past to affect my future.”

“The past always affect the future, it simply need not affect it negatively.” The princess’ face is so incredibly solemn even when the words are dismissive.

“My father seemed to think you chose me for a specific reason.”

She remembers thinking that he certainly had not thought because they might have liked her…“Did you want to arrange this marriage for revenge?”

At least the arched eyebrow seemed to be one of surprise rather than loathing. “You are an intelligent one to ask. However, when Robert and I chose you gaining revenge through you was not a reason. There are better ways of avenging oneself than binding yourself permanently to those you dislike.”

“You do dislike my father.” There was nothing she could do if the princess answers in the affirmative even if she could wish the princess would deny it. Of course, if the princess had made such a denial, she could not have believed it. 

Thankfully, the princess does not try for any expression approaching being conciliatory. “I do. I doubt he told you when Robert and I ventured to Winterfell when you were naught but a child, one night, your father took me aside.”

Father had not. One more thing her father kept secret. 

Princess Elia lets her grimace go unmentioned when she reports, “Being at Winterfell was not easy and I felt guilty enough that I saw your grandfather and uncle die and being to anything about it and there your father was offering me condolences on the loss of my husband and “despite their friendship” even apologies for the way Robert had carried on about your aunt. While doing that he deliberately kept the silent of the extent of my husband’s dishonorable actions and the disloyalty of those entrusted with the security of my children. That is not something one forgives.”

Obviously, not as unaffected as she likes to pretend, the princess pauses to take a sip of wine. 

“That is when you learned about Jon.” 

Perplexedly, the princess’ nearly smiles. “It was.”

“How?” Father never did offer a possible explanation and she had not asked for one.

When she sets the glass down, the princess says, “At first there was something about his eyes and the shape of his jaw.”

“And, yet, you say revenge was not a factor in choosing me to wed Aegon.”

The expression on the princess’ face almost seems to be reminiscing. “No, not choosing you. You are everything I could want in a good-daughter: kind, pretty, talented, beloved by my sons and my daughters.” 

Such pretty words she thinks in time to see the princess smirk. “Between us, however, though it should be beneath me, I rather relish not having to pretend as I might with any other girl who could be my son’s wife.”

 _“…I came to know the best as I did the worst…It made all the difference.”_

The princess straightens. “Child, if it is my advice you desire, I say, live the life you have. When you become my age you will have learned who are worth an effort and who are not. Simply know that I have long since thought you are.” 

Elia Martell rises her. “If that is all, I will take your leave. I think I have taken enough of your time.”

Before she exits the room completely, the princess turns back to her, “The truth of the matter is, if I was not sure of you, this wedding would not have happened .I know my son loves you and you love him. You knew the worst of him and of us and you stayed. To me, that is what matters.”

* * *

Aegon smiles as he slips down to sit next to her, breathing somewhat heavily. “So, how was I?” 

Not trying to give any indication of how his closeness affected her, she decides playing coy would be best. “From what I can see your form was perfect.” 

“I hope you are not just saying that because you are supposed to?”

The tone is light, but, his mother’s words still ring in her ears. _“When you become my age you will have learned who are worth an effort and who are not.”_

As if by accident her gaze floated towards Sers Jaime and Arthur were standing at a respectful distance. Ser Jaime was easily gesturing at young Lord Steffon who doubled as his nephew and squire, obviously imparting some lesson related to the scene they just witnessed. Ser Arthur was staring, stone-faced, at the buoyant Lord Baratheon who was sharing a word with Belle’s husband, Ser Gerald. 

She cannot help her frown. Ser Arthur knew what her father had been hiding. 

She once asked Aegon who else knew about his knowing about Jon. Ser Arthur still does not. “There will be no more lies between us. You swore that. I think I should agree to the same.”

Before Aegon replies, the Princess’s shocked voice rings through the air, “Husband, please do not tell me you were…” 

Lord Robert, armor still on, claps Aegon on the shoulder with his large hand before intercepting his wife. “I think that should be obvious.” She notices how his eager tone matches his eager gait.

She also sees Mya, who accompanied the princess down to the grounds, sending her own husband equally incredulous looks. Mya rolls her eyes when Lord Guyard smiles sweetly. 

The princess’ mouth turns downward, “Robert, you cannot be-”

“M’dear, can a man no longer amuse himself?” Nonchalant words and stance aside, Lord Robert lets go of the sword all too easily. She notes neither sons nor good-sons of Lord Robert’s, capable at arms as they are, make any move to physically or verbally defend him from his slight-framed wife. 

“Watching you injure yourself is hardly my idea of amusement.” Despite the words, the princess flattens one hand on the center of his breastplate with the second at his neck, obviously checking for injuries.

Lord Robert only grins that winsome grin, “Have you no faith in me?”

The hand formerly at his neck drops and the princess pokes at the center of his breastplate. “Faith? It is a question of recklessness. You are wearing real armor and those are real weapons.”

He bellows a laugh. “What is so reckless? It is all for merriment.” 

With one look at his wife, Lord Robert cajoles, “Now, woman, you never minded before.”

“The last time you sparred with Aegon it was not with the likes of the true steel he carries now. Not only is Gendry’s work never dull it is not my son’s armor covered in dust and scratches.”

She remembered the first time she met Ser Gendry she had not known what to think of Lord Baratheon’s son, when Aegon introduced them. It still did not make much sense to her; a son of a lord, base-born or otherwise, with an interest in smiths’ work. 

“My family is highly unconventional’, Aegon had laughed with Gendry laughing with him.

Now she sees it first hand when despite the worry for her husband, there was pride in the princess’ voice. Was the pride meant for her son or her husband’s? Before Lord Robert replies, Gendry, with lips suspiciously twitching, drapes an arm over the shoulder of his father’s wife and says, “Now, Mother, our king was quite gentle”. 

By the way they sat, Sansa knew the Highgarden heir and his wife were only giving the illusion of being involved in their whispered conversation while their son gazed, wide-eyed, at his ‘grandfather’, no doubt, anxious about how he’d respond. Though she hadn’t turned to confirm it, she could feel Aegon shaking with silent laughter. Elbert lets out a loud snicker he smothers with a not quite guilty look in his growling father’s direction. 

“Hear that, woman? ‘Gentle’! I cannot just let that sort of thing go, can I? One son feels nothing of taking a blade to me without so much as taking a moment to think while the other will say these things with impunity. What have I done to have such sons?”

In response, Princess Elia drops a kiss on Gendry’s cheek. In spite of herself, she thought about such scenes in her youth or rather the lack of them. She presses her lips together thinking if her mother had known of Jon’s true parentage or that Father had not forbidden her mother from even asking about it perhaps there might have been.

She smothers the thought. It was too late for “what if’s”. The path they all walk they will walk, be it herself, her mother, or her cousin.

She nearly startles when Prince Viserys appears from somewhere behind Aegon muttering, “Serves him right”. 

Her eyes widen. Thankfully, by this time Lord Robert has gone some distance away to divest himself of armor and the princess went along with him.

She only registers the Princess Arianne hanging off of the Prince’s arm and the white of Renly Baratheon before her betrothed stands to gives him a hearty embrace, “Uncle, I am so glad to see you.” 

Then, Aegon murmurs, shades lower than his usual timber and a shade too serious, “Please be kind.”

The Targaryen prince, with his hand still clapped around Aegon’s shoulder, gives the still laughing Lord Robert an annoyed glance. “Nephew, while I love you dearly…”

Because it had been years since the Dornish princess and her consort been in King’s Landing and the former Regent and his family left for Storm’s End the relationship between Aegon’s uncle and his ‘father’ was rarely discussed. 

Because of it she almost tenses when Aegon tries again, “If not for me, then for mother, please?”

“Oh, go on, Vis”, prompts Ser Renly, in the voice of a man used to making such pleas.

The prince glances at his former foster brother and then in Princess Elia’s direction. His gaze softens in a way Sansa had not seen often, if at all. Turning back to Aegon, Prince Viserys sighs, “For you, Elia, and Rhae”. Then, he warns, “Expect no more than that.”

Then, the prince glares at the chuckling Lord Renly. “What?”

Still laughing, the younger Baratheon brother snorts, “‘More’? If Stannis was here might die shock if the both of you managed anything beyond mild contempt at all. ‘More’, ha!”

Aegon nudges his uncle’s shoulder. “Please, Uncle?” 

Princess Arianne pokes her husband in the stomach with an elbow. “My consort should not be making disparaging remarks about my aunt’s husband, especially not in front of my cousin’s betrothed.” 

She would start wondering how one achieves a tone so sweet when the words are anything less than innocent, but, she was too busy not breathing when purple eyes, so like and unlike Aegon’s, snap towards her as if just now registering her presence. 

A moment later her trance is broken when the prince turns back to Aegon to give him a nod. Then, the silver haired prince lets out a long-suffering sigh and gives his wife and a kiss, making Ser Renly laugh. “Alright, alright, I said I would be nice, didn’t I? Let’s get this done, then.”

She keeps her mouth shut tight. ‘When did he say he would be nice?’ What would even pass for it?

She does not know what to say, let alone what to think when Aegon’s mother greets both Prince Viserys and her niece enthusiastically or when Prince Viserys smirks and drapes his arm around the princess’s shoulder after Lord Robert drops a kiss to the hand of Princess Arianne and gives a tight jerk of the head in Prince Viserys direction. 

After seeing the prince and princess move on to greet Rhaenys and her family she turns back to Aegon. He seems pleased. Ser Renly seemed to be as well. 

Evidently, Prince Viserys sharing few words with Lord Robert peaceably was enough to warrant the kisses the dark-haired Sunspear heir gave her husband as the pair made their way back to the keep.

By that time, the Princess Elia and Lord Robert returned to her vicinity. Though the princess gently brushes a hand across a torn part of her husband’s tunic, she can hear how the pairs’ previous argument began anew. “I always wonder what I did to have such a husband who insists on this sort of foolishness. If aimed deeper, this wouldn’t only be torn fabric.” 

Lord Robert nudges his wife in the shoulder lightly and threaded his fingers through his wife’s free hand. “You fret too much. Despite what some seem to think. I am made of sterner stuff than that.”

She wonders if the darker tone of the words was due to Prince Viserys. And yet, Princess Elia only snorts. “It is certain your head is made of sterner stuff.” 

Aegon laughs while Gendry rolls his eyes when in a gentler tone, the princess continues, “You could have hurt yourself.” 

The look on Aegon’s face turns positively sly. “Mother, I am shocked you. All this concern for Father and none for me.” 

Ser Arthur, she notes, looks stern while Ser Jaime grins at the way Rhaenys sends a look heavenward.

Her gaze flies to Aegon’s mother when she replies, “I think you would rather Sansa worry after you.” 

Before she can even think, the princess continues, “Besides, I have no doubt in my mind no matter who you would come up against, you’d come out victorious and hale. After all, king or not, you are my son.”

Perhaps it was the shock which caused her to join in on the peals of laughter which rip out around her when Aegon bows low before his mother before going out to remove his own armor, with his sisters’ husbands following to do the same.

“What a fine family I have”, Lord Robert grouses as he taps his wife on the shoulder with his large fist. She suspects the lack of force behind the gesture prevents the slender woman being affected by it too much. 

“One quite fine.” The princess smiles and gives her husband a kiss as she wraps her hands around his waist, causing Elbert to blush. Abruptly, or perhaps not so abruptly, she notes, the princess pulls away from her husband, whispering, “You are covered in far too much dust.”

The former regent’s face practically pulled into a leer tells Sansa more than she suspects she wants to know of the relationship between the former regent and his wife. “Something you can, no doubt, fix.”

Rarely being in the company of the princess and her husband, even without the use of a mirror she knows the color of her face likely matches her hair.

Her shock only increases when in response to the princess’ muttering about her husband’s ‘growing shameless’ he only questions her use of ‘growing’. 

The princess settles into her grinning husband’s all the while whispering about setting an example. While Ser Arthur nods in agreement to the princess’ words, Ser Jaime none-too-softly mutters, “That ship got lost on its way to Valyria long ago”. 

Still grinning, Lord Baratheon growls out “Quiet you, Lannister!” 

At Ser Jaime’s laughter, she can hear the princess whispering something similar to “Acting like children.” The only response from Lord Robert is to put an arm around his wife. 

Still, not able to reconcile what the princess told her not so long ago, she turns from the sight to see Mya staring at her; the fond amusement was plain on her face. 

She starts, “Are they always-” She cannot even finish. 

Stifling a laugh, Mya glances in Aegon’s direction. When Mya’s gaze returns to her, the older woman advises, “The ability to feign deafness and blindness is an admirable skill for a daughter of this house and a queen.”

With a grin of her own, Belle chimes in, “Often enough, when having to live with them, one finds such skills not enough.”

Rhaenys laughs. “Whatever the case, observing them it truly is the best practice one can get.”

As the ladies of her future family collectively laugh all around her once again she wonders what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

There was a quick wrap on her door. She opens to see Aegon’s shining eyes. “Let me in!”

Surprised, she steps back and he hurriedly closes the door behind him and gives her a kiss. All she can think of is how good he is at this. 

When they pull apart, she tries to catch her breath. When she finds she can speak again she blurts, “What are you doing here?” 

He smirks, “I live here.”

She pokes him in the shoulder and he only laughs. “That’s not what I meant. What are you doing here?” For emphasis, she adds, “In my rooms.”

He grins at her. “Can’t a man want to be with his betrothed?”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Of course you can.”

“Then give me another kiss before someone from the Kingsguard or council comes looking for me.”

Though she wants nothing more, she argues, “Lord Stannis and Lady Cersei will be here soon. We have to go down to greet them.”

He grins. “All the more reason to enjoy our time alone now. There won’t be too much of it when the rest of the cabal descends.”

While she enjoys the second kiss he gives as much as the first, but, she quips, “You are so shameless.”

Unapologetic, he replies, “I come by it honestly.” 

The scene with the former regent and the princess comes swiftly back to her mind. “I noticed they are quite open with one another. I do not remember them being so during your coronation.”

Knowing who she was speaking about, he only smiles. “There were different circumstances then.”

“What do you mean?” She asks the question though she already knows the answer. 

“They do not hide from family and you are that now”, his words and the look on his face say. 

As warm as the thought makes her, she cannot help mentioning the other scene she witnessed. “Is that why I saw how clearly Prince Viserys and Lord Baratheon detest each other.” She says it thought that is not the question she asks. 

Aegon sits down. To her surprise, he shakes his head. “Not as much as you would think.”

From what she saw their relationship looked like hatred. 

“If they are in a mood to make such admissions, they say they used to argue something fierce, but, that’s the extent of it.”

“Argue?” What she saw today went beyond arguments or at least how she understood them. 

He scratches the side of his face, his expression looks as though he was recalling some memory. Then, her betrothed admits, “Rhaenys did say something about Uncle Viserys kicking Father and Ser Jaime reluctantly informed me Father tried to strike Uncle once.”

Her eyes go wide. “What?”

For some reason, Aegon’s lips twitch, as if he was waving such things away. “It was years ago. While I recommend leaving it alone, the way Mother and Lord Stannis tell it, remind them of how they embarrassed themselves and their faces turn the most brilliant shade of red.”

The look on Aegon’s face turns sympathetic. “I would not fret too much about it. They both came to an accord long ago. Besides, for them to be warm to one another would not be right.”

She insists, “That did not look like an accord.”

He gives her a knowing look. “For them it was.”

She presses, “Why were you worried then?” 

“Both men grown set in their ways and their words are still sharp.”

The smile he gives her is very incredibly warm as he takes her hand. Her face heats. Then he asks, “Did you truly like the wedding cloak?”

She frowns at the odd change of subject, but, she would not lie. “I did.”

“Did you truly look at it?” She knew exactly what he was asking. 

Her face flushes further. Once again, she answers, “I did.”

“My family is not a typical one, it never has been.” 

She almost laughs. “No one’s is.” No matter how odd she finds his family, hers is certainly atypical.

His eyes seem brighter. “You are a wise one.” He leans in to brushes a lock of hair out of her face. Her eyes flutter shut at his proximity. She takes a breath and opens her eyes again.

“You have met my family over the years, however, this now, you are meeting them as a part of it. It can be overwhelming.”

She flushes a bit. She had been nonplussed by it all. “Perhaps so, but, that does not explain why you think your uncle and your father are anything less than sworn enemies.”

He bursts out laughing. “You saw through my lousy attempt, did you? Mother had said she agreed with me about how intelligent you are.”

Despite smiling at the complement, she pushes at his shoulder and he laughs delightedly. “Alright, it’s just that that while they rarely agree on anything, but, there are things for which they do.”

“That they love your mother, sister, and you.”

There was that warm smile again, “That.” Then his smile dips.

“There is more?”

He nods, and rests his head against the back of the settee. “For various reasons, they are not frequently charitable towards my sire.”

‘Sire’. It was always Sire and never “Father”. She has not spoken to hers in years and while most of her letters went to her mother, it was still “Father” for her. 

She bites her lip almost regretting pressing the matter, but, since he does not seem angry about it, she ventures, “Lord Robert I understand, but, your uncle?”

Aegon turns to her. His face is so uncommonly grim. “It was no secret how Uncle Viserys was very close to Grandmother Rhaella and he was always fond of my mother. Once I asked him, he said, ‘They tried to hide it from me, but, Rhaegar made them cry.’ Back when I was a boy the answer had been enough.”

She swallows. “There is another one?” 

Aegon nods his head. “You remember.”

Her eyes widen. “Your uncle knows about those prophesies?”

Now those beautiful eyes glint. “Our family does not lie; not to each other, even if the truths are ugly.” 

“Does he believe?” After their first fight, Aegon promised her the truth and he told her one that terrified her, but, Prince Viserys is rarely in King’s Landing and never near her thoughts. 

Aegon shrugs. “Uncle believes it is possible. No Targaryen worth his salt dismisses the chance, but, he’d say, ‘Rhaegar couldn’t predict his own death. He can hardly be the second coming of Daena, now could he?’ Even if he does believe, he finds it all distasteful.”

Distasteful? Prince Viserys has a gift of words, that’s for certain. “In what way?”

“He says it took him a long time to get over how haughty my sire had been.”

“Haughty?” She supposed thinking one’s children are a part of a prophecy is being haughty and yet…

Aegon looks distinctly uncomfortable. “When I was old enough to know about well…he’d say, “To start with, Rhaegar should have known better than to touch someone else’s woman.”

Because it was still very much a difficult subject she was grateful Aegon moves hurriedly along, “Of course, that was not the part that makes Uncle angry. Uncle Viserys used to say, ‘I loved my brother and admired him greatly, but, that wood’s witch said the Prince that was Promised would come from our parents line. There was nothing which said it be Rhaegar or his get, except in his own mind.’”

She blinked. This she had not expected. “He wanted to be a part of it?”

Aegon smiles. She knows it is a smile he gives when he finds nothing comical. “No one likes to think their family finds it so easy to be dismissive of them; Uncle Viserys is one of those who can take thoughts to extremes. When we became older though, before his wedding, in fact, Uncle admitted to other aspects he found disturbing. ‘Rhaegar should have known better. Neither petticoat nor premonition is worth putting us in danger. All he ended up doing was getting himself killed and me beholden to fucking Baratheon for the safety and happiness of my family. His recklessness and false surety nearly ruined us all because he could not leave well enough alone.’ I never asked him for elaboration ever again.”

Well, that was definitely an answer. “He feels quite strongly about this.”

“Uncle is not unique in that regard. Although Mother rarely mentions him these days, I know Rhaenys holds a similar view about our sire.”

She whispers. “What about you?”

“I will not lie and say not knowing if Rhaegar Targaryen saw me as his son or some weapon of fate does not sting. The thing of it is, when I have such a good life with a mother and father who loved and guided me, a family I trust, and I am going to marry the woman I love. The only reason he figures into my thoughts at all is that his absence allows it.”

“But, what if he was right?” While she does not want to think it, she has to. There had been enough ravens between Aegon and the Maester at the Wall, and even a few to Jon for her not to ignore it. Once Jon wrote back to her, “That makes as much sense as anything else does, from that end at least.”

Aegon’s eyes glisten. “Even though “if” might become “when”, I would not want to walk such a path alone and I do not think I have to.”

_Live the life you have._

She puts her hand in his, “No, you do not.”


End file.
